Allen
by R.Rettler
Summary: No one left in the Glade knew exactly what Allen was. He had been told that there was no room in the Maze for weak people, soft minds, or a girl mentality. So he manned-up, buried their secret deep down inside, and moved through the Glade undetected for years. Allen was created to protect her, after all, and that's what he did - he protected her, until the very end. [COMPLETED]
1. Chapter 1

_**RE-WRITE! Sorry if the notifications bother anyone. I hope you enjoy this story if you're re-reading it, or reading it for the first time! Updates will come every week. Please remember that "B.T." means "Before Thomas," (essentially flashbacks). Every chapter will have a "Before Thomas," section.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

"Who's that?" Thomas asked, catching a lone boy chopping wood far from the others.

Newt stopped and turned back to see what the Greenie was looking at. "That's Allen," he said with a hint of yearning. "He and his twin were one of the first Gladers here. Best leave him alone though, hasn't talked much since his brother died and smells like a pig. Now stop askin' questions and follow me."

Thomas watched as Allen swung his axe high in the air and let it drop down hard, splintering a piece of wood in two. The boy's clothes hung loosely off his lean frame, and now that Newt had mentioned it, Thomas could see stains all over the boy's clothes and skin. Allen's shaggy dark brown hair was so caked with dirt and grease, it would probably turn out ten shades lighter if he bathed. Thomas grimaced, slightly grossed out by the lack of Allen's hygiene, and followed Newt as he showed him to the Slicers.

From under the early morning shade of trees, Allen peered out over the Glade and caught site of the new Greenie and Newt walking closely together. He heaved a sigh, thought about all the boys who had arrived in the Glade and the few that had died in it, then continued on with his job of getting wood ready for the fires.

Allen had isolated himself to the dark clump of trees in the corner of the Glade when his twin brother Greg had died a year earlier. None of the other Gladers had objected to the move, in fact, hardly anyone noticed the absence. Allen was Keeper of Shadows; a self-appointed job with a self-made title. He would wake late in the day and tend to the graves of dead boys before cutting more wood and managing the fires while everyone else was sleeping. Allen then slept from early morning until late evening when he would start the cycle again.

It was the very simple and secluded life of a boy in the Glade, _and nothing more._

After Newt had dropped the Greenie off with Winston he walked around the Glade once to check up on everyone and give a few orders. Before heading to his own station at the Gardens he was called over by Alby, who was leaning up against the porch of the Homestead.

"You get the Greenie goin'?" Alby asked, staring out towards the trees.

Newt looked over his shoulder at the slaughterhouse to see if Winston and Thomas had gone inside yet, "Yeah, Winston'll take care of him." When Alby didn't respond right away, Newt follow his line of sight. "Wat'cha lookin' at?"

Alby nodded towards the Dead Heads, "first time I've seen Al' in a while."

It was the third time today that the dysfunctional Glader had been brought to Newt's attention, and it was barely breakfast. "He scared the klunk outta me when I saw him next to the fire this mornin'," he said, watching Allen throw chunks of wood into a pile. "Didn't recognize that shank for a sec. Must've fallen asleep next to the pit or something. He's usually gone before I get up."

"Anyone talk to him recently?" asked Alby.

The blond boy shrugged, not really wanting this conversation to continue. "Doubt it."

Alby weighed the response in his head, trying to decide how to feel about this information. As their leader, he did hold a certain responsibility to keep up with each boy.

"He's happy out there, Alby." Newt tried to convince the both of them, "leave him."

* * *

 **B.T.**

It was an obscure chance of fate the day WICKED had come for the twins. Little Greg had found his father's electronic shaver, and after sloppily cutting his own hair, he convinced his twin sister to shave off hers.

Greg had gifted his sister with a very short buzz cut before their mother found them in the upstairs bathroom giggling like crazy. "Look mommy!" the little girl squealed, "Now I look just like 'Eg!"

Their mother dropped to her knees in disbelief and cupped her daughters face in her hands. "Now I'm never going to be able to tell you two apart," she groaned. "Why'd you do this Greg?"

The little boy shrugged, still holding the humming shaver.

She glared at him, "if this isn't cleaned up by the time dinner is ready, you're not getting any desert." Their mother got off the floor and stomped back down stairs.

Greg's shoulders sunk down in shame as he cleaned the mess of long brown curls off the ground with a huge pout on his lips. "Don't be sad, 'Eg." His sister chirped beside him, "I like it." She gave him a pat on the back, then skipped back to her room excited to show their dad when he came home.

Later that night, while the family of four was settling in, a man in all black kicked down their front door. He and his friends ran through the house with flashlights screaming for everyone to get up. Greg help on to his mother, while his father tightly sheltered his sister. The men clad in all black barged in to the room where they were hiding and tore the twins away from their parents. There was no shortage of cries or yells for help.

"Greg!" Their father yelled after them, "Greg don't get separated. Do you understand me?" The deep voice of his father travelled far as the twins were pulled out of the house kicking and screaming. Greg didn't understand, not entirely. He was too young. But protect his sister he would- at all costs, with no excuses.

The twins were thrown in to the back of a rather large armored truck where a handful of other kids their age sat huddled in corners crying.

"Thought it was supposed to be a _boy and girl_." A man's voice asked from underneath his mask to a shorter soldier standing next to him.

"Don't be stupid, David. That's a set of identical twin boys if I've ever seen 'em."


	2. Chapter 2

The blaring alarm scared Allen so much that he became tangled in his hammock and bruised his tailbone falling to the hard earth. He squinted at the light breaking through the canopy of leaves and groaned in discomfort. It was still mid-day; much too early for Allen to be awake.

Sirens continued to sound from every corner of the Glade, creating an eerie silence in the woods between shrieks. Allen picked himself up and scratched his head where months-worth of caked on grime and dead skin peeled off under his fingernails. There wasn't a reason for the alarms to be going off. It wasn't a supply day and a Greenie had just arrived – the brown haired boy with Newt from yesterday.

While debating whether or not to see what was going on, Allen spotted a Beetleblade flash across a tree branch and out of sight. He clenched his fists. Their beady little red eyes always shined in the dark as they spied on Gladers while they slept. Allen spit in the direction that the Beetleblade disappeared. If he could spit on it he would have but the shucking things were just too quick.

Falling back to sleep with the sirens still going would be impossible so Allen gathered himself and left the shelter of the trees. It was easy to spot everyone crowded around the opening to the box in the center of the Glade. **_Must be something big_** _,_ Allen thought to himself, picking up interest. Knowing that no one would want him too close because of his smell, he walked up and stood several feet behind the outermost layer of Gladers. In front of Allen were the youngest kids in the Glade, Rick and Roy, trying to stand on their tippy toes to see over the shoulders of taller boys.

A breeze pushed passed Allen and into the nose of Roy, a rather sour looking boy who constantly whined. He turned at the rotten smell to see where it was coming from and nudged Rick in the ribcage when he spotted Allen standing behind them.

"Well look who showed up to the party!" Rick exclaimed, making a few other boys look for a fleeting moment. "Haven't see your shucking face for a few weeks now, Al'. Where ya' been? Tryin' to make soap out of pig klunk?"

Allen stood there and waited for the abuse to end. It was standard at this point when people saw him around. Make a few jokes, point out the obvious, but Allen always got what he wanted in the end, and the smell hasn't failed him yet at keeping others away.

He glared at the younger boys, unimpressed with their jokes, and then nodded to the crowd in front of them.

Rick cracked a snide little smile, "think a shucking pile of klunk like yourself stands a chance? No offense, Al', but no girl is ever gonna want to talk to you – _even if you did shower_. Nah, I think this one is mine."

Allen furrowed his eyebrows, crossed his arms, and nodded again.

This time Roy talked, but not to Allen. "She said something!"

"What the shuck did she say!?" Rick dropped his conversation with Allen quicker than a piece of klunk to its pee-pot and tried to see over the shoulders of older boys.

The two boys climbed on top of each other, "I don't know! Something about the Greenie." Replied Roy, accidently sticking a finger in Rick's eye as he tried to get on his back.

 ** _She?_** The title caught Allen off guard. **_She?_** His heart rate quickened and his feet carried him a few paced away from the group. There was no way a girl could be in the Glade, it just wasn't right ** _. A girl doesn't belong here_** , the very firm and assertive voice of his brother rang through Allen's mind sending shivers down his spine. **_This is no place for girls._** Allen let his arms fall limp to his side as nerves bubbled in his stomach. He felt like he had done something wrong, like Greg was standing right next to him, scolding him for making a mistake. **_The only reason a girl would be sent up to the Glade is to cause trouble, and we aren't looking for trouble. Right?_** Allen pursed his lips as his breathing picked up. He didn't want any trouble.

The Glader's pushed in tighter around what Allen assumed was the girl. He watched as the boys tried to climb on top of each other while smaller boys, like Rick and Roy, started to crawl on the ground through legs to get a better look. **_Nothing good would come of this_** _._

Allen's eyes went slightly wide with panic and his legs started filling with led as he turned on the Gladers and headed back towards the woods. He should have never come out.

Just after Allen passed the first tree in the cluster of many, the chaos behind him started to move. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as the Med-jacks carried a limp body in the direction of the Homestead and a crowd of hungry looking boys waded behind them. Pausing to watch a moment longer, he saw Newt with his head bowed talking rather seriously to the new Greenie and Alby.

There was a time when he would have been included in on that discussion. There was a time when Allen would have been the one examining the body of new injured Greenie. And there was a time when Alby would have been talking to Greg like that instead of Newt.

A bitter heat rose in Allen's belly from anger and jealousy.

"Go back to the woods," a very feminine voice urged him in a whisper.

The voice appearing didn't scare him. What scared Allen was how much it had changed since the last time he, or anyone else, had heard it.

Allen spit in the direction of Newt and disappeared into the shadows of trees.

Back in the center of the Glade, Alby was having a heated discussion with Newt and Thomas. "Don't matter if you remember her or not, Newbie. Point is she knows you." His voice was firm, and full of the unknown. "We've never had a girl here and I'm not sure I like it. So you better grind your pretty little head real hard to figure out who she is."

Thomas' was more focused on the distance that was growing between him and the girl that the Med-jacks were carrying away. He heard Alby's voice, but not his words. "Yeah, yeah- I know. I'll try, maybe if I-,"

"No." Alby cut him off, already predicting his request. "You're stickin' with Newt or Chuck. That's final. Good that?"

The Greenie, a bit dismayed, shook his head in agreement.

Alby, Newt, and Thomas stood there for a moment, taking a second to fully accept who had just arrived in the Glade. A girl. An _unconscious_ girl. A girl who knew the name of their most recent Greenie. And a girl who held a note that said, _"she's the last one ever."_

* * *

 **B.T.**

Greg worked hard to fulfill his dad's last wish. It wasn't easy to trick adults into believing a girl was a boy, especially when those adults were doctors and scientists. But somehow, the two 10 year old twins managed to maneuver their way through WICKED unhindered in their self-proclaimed brotherhood.

Every time blood needed to be drawn, Greg had his drawn twice. Every time an MRI or CAT scan was done, Greg had to do it twice. Whenever there were individual physical evaluations, Greg had to show his body twice. And each time the twins were called together, Greg spoke for the both of them.

They had created a name for Greg's new brother. The twins called him Allen. Allen was quiet, didn't like being touched, and was good at pretending to be crazy. He would throw tantrums and scream at the top of his lungs whenever they were a part. Allen would hit himself, or smack his hands aggressively against the wall – sometimes leaving bloody handprints on the nice white paint. These escapades became so difficult to deal with that the adults started to separate the twins less and less. Greg was so pleased with this he encouraged Allen to do it whenever they weren't together. Eventually, without any sort of actual tests or evaluations, a doctor said "he must have autism," and that was the end of trying to separate the twins.

It was that very act of assumption which allowed Allen and Greg to get away with everything.

As the years blurred by it was clear the twins were thick as thieves. They became decent pick-pockets, hoarding pens and anything sharp for the day they might have to fight their way out. Greg would watch the guards and learned how to do some basic punches and blocks. Allen enjoyed watching the doctor's work with other kids; how they repaired injury, sewed the skin, and made casts. But most importantly, the twins learned how to keep Allen's secret as they grew older.

When it was their turn to arrive in the Glade, everyone had made a unanimous decision on behalf of the twins. They would be sent together, and with their memories wiped besides each other. It was deemed "unsafe," for both the staff and Allen if the twins were separated; fearing he would lash out and hurt someone. But, truth be told, none of the doctors wanted to deal with Allen and his pretend tantrums. Sending them both was the easiest thing to do from the perspective of the adults.

After their memories were wiped and the boys were thrown into a cage, Greg changed into the steadfast young man that his dad would have been proud of. It was there, in the box on the way to the Glade, that Greg finally decided the best way to protect his sister was to permanently act like she no never existed.

"Allen?" He spoke out in the darkness as the metal cage rattled upwards.

"You don't have to call me that right now," a feminine voice responded.

Greg sat with his back to a wall and wrung his hands together. It got harder for him to hear her voice every time his sister spoke. It got higher while his got lower. A sign that eventually, in the near future, Allen would start to steadily take on the features of a girl and Greg could do nothing to stop it.

"Listen to me," Greg said again, "Look, I don't have a good feeling about where they are sending us-,"

"It's probably just another facility."

Greg made an exaggerated shushing noise, irritated by both the interrupting boy he sat next to and the girl's voice he spoke with. "Would you stop talking and let me explain?" He said trying to calm himself.

Silence fell.

"I think it's a good idea if we only call you Allen from now on. At least until we figure out where we're going and who's there."

She didn't like that idea, and shifted uncomfortably. "I don't kno-,"

The cage smashed into something hard and came to an abrupt stop. Allen and Greg smacked in to each other as the crash dislodged them from where they sat.

Greg looked up to see a very thin bright light above them and heard a few muffled voices. He turned to Allen. With a firm hand, and unwavering words, Greg spoke to his sister one more time. "Do you trust me?"

Her face lit up as the bright line above them grew bigger and boys could be heard talking. She looked to her brother, and nodded nervously as the voices grew louder.

"You have to be Allen now. Do you understand?"

"But Eg', I don't want-,"

"You have to!" He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. "These people could separate us, do you want them to separate us?"

"No, but Eg'-,"

"Your name is Allen. Say it!" Greg yelled at his twin.

And for the last time, his twin sister spoke in a shaky voice as her true self. "My name is Allen."


	3. Chapter 3

Allen waited patiently in the safety of his own hammock as the light over him dimmed, signaling night fall. He had not been able to go back to sleep since the alarms sounded that afternoon. The noise of Gladers carrying on with their duties echoed through the trees, and hushed rumors of who the girl was carried like a soft wind across grass. When the shadows of the tree trunks disappeared, but enough light remained to see, Allen got out of bed and started his day.

Not wanting to rush, he did his normal routine. Picking up an old beaten broom propped up against a tree, Allen walked through the trees and towards the grave yard. It was a small patch of mix-matched head stones with one lavishly decorated; George. Using the broom, he swept the dirt around each one, shooing away leaves and twigs that might have fallen during the day. Allen paused a moment at the last headstone, a large boulder wedged into the ground, and bent down to kiss the rock right above two crudely etched in letters: ' **Eg**.

Sighing, he retreated to the outskirts of the forest and traded in the broom for a rusting axe that leaned against a pile of wood. The rest of the Glade was moving towards Frypan's domain for dinner, much more chatty than normal. Allen picked up a large cut of tree, placed it on an old stump, raised his axe high so it fell hard and split the shucking thing in two. Then repeated.

By the time all light had disappeared and most boys were in their beds the pile of chopped wood was large enough to last through the night. His hands stung from the hard manual labor and bled more than usual against the splintered handle of the axe. Allen dropped it and looked down at his hands. Blisters had formed and callouses had ripped, a few thin pieces of wood stuck firm in his fingers.

"You gonna get those checked out?" Minho's voice interrupted Allen's thoughts.

He looked up surprised to see Minho running at him with a large smile on his face. No one enjoyed coming close to Allen anymore but if someone had to talk to the shank, Minho would always be the one to volunteer. He gave the runner a friendly smile and nod.

Minho came right up to him and grabbed one of Allen's hands, "let me see – shucking hell, Allen!" He picked up the other one, "your hands look like Winston went at them with a dull knife."

Allen cracked a toothy smile, shrugging. There had always been a connection between Allen and Minho. It was a relationship forged by Greg and solidified the day of his death. Minho, with little effort, quickly became the person that could read Allen. With simple look at the widowed twin, a small nod, side glance, or twitch of the lips could tell Minho exactly what was on Allen's mind. Every mute needs a voice box and with Greg gone, Minho took up the responsibility in honor of his best friend.

"Alby wants the Keepers to get together and talk about the new Greenies. 'Thinks somethin' is up. Just wanted to make sure you knew about it. Get you some food too. I never see you at Frypan's anymore."

Allen waved his hand lightly, rejecting the invitation to eat. He hadn't known about the gathering though. A suppressed sadness from being left out hit Allen right in the chest. Allen's Keeper status had long been forgotten and with it went the need to ask Allen for his opinion.

He tapped his left collar bone gently twice.

Minho scratched his head with unease. "You still on about that, Allen? Course Newt's gonna be to there. The shank is second in command. He knows everything about this place."

Allen rolled his eyes and made an expression of ' _yes I know,_ ' and _'_ _don't remind me_.

"Listen," Minho put a hand on Allen's shoulder, "things are actin' up around here and the bunch of us need to stick together. You need to be at that meeting." He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and the let his hand drop, pretending to not feel the grim that stuck to it from Allen's shirt. "Would it kill you to take a shuckin' shower, though?"

Sometimes his skin itched all over, but Allen would never shower. Not for Minho, not for some girl, not for anyone. It was his last line of defense against the rest of the Gladers. He gave a small smile and then started to pick up armfuls of wood for the fire.

"So you'll be there?"

Allen gave one sharp nod up and went to go tend to the last few blazing coals.

By the time he arrived at the meeting, everyone else was there and in deep discussion. Allen paused at the entrance and looked in. There was Alby standing in all his glory while everyone else sat or leaned against the walls. Their leader saw him standing in the doorframe and shined a broad smile.

"Allen!" Alby welcomed him like an old friend that had been living oceans away.

Everyone in the room shifted to get a look at the ghost of a Keeper. Allen tried to look straight ahead at Alby, or Minho who looked excited to see him too, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Newt looking at him with a hard expression. Being this close to him made Allen's heart jump.

"Now that we're all here, let me catch you up 'Al." Alby said, drawing the attention back to him. "Med-jacks say the girl is in a coma. The shucking Greenie says he don't remember her. The note in her hand says 'she's the last one ever,' and I'll be a piece of klunk if one more person says they see a Griever during the day. Good that?"

None of it made any sense to him. The topics were too general and he'd never been kept in the loop for any of it. He gave Alby a firm nod regardless though.

Murmurs broke out from some of the boys, picking up the conversation they were having before Allen interrupted. Gally rose to his full height and looked around the room, his dark eyes skipping over Allen entirely. Gally had changed the most in the group - living through a Griever sting would do that to you. Allen was sucker punched with guilt as he watched Gally. They had been friends before. Great friends. _More than friends_ for a brief moment. But now the Gally that Allen knew was replaced with this paranoid, aggressive young man and it was Allen's fault.

"I say we throw them both out," said Gally.

A few groans of protest sounded, "would you give it a rest?" Newt argued. "They've done nothin' yet." Allen was shook by the British voice. It had been a year since he had heard Newt speak, and the proximity of his voice was almost sickening. He had gotten taller, his hair more tousled – still favoring one leg.

Allen wanted to scream and kick his bad leg out from under him.

"Yet!" Gally agreed. "Nothing _yet,_ exactly. What if they're going to do something and we could have stopped them? Bet you'd feel like a real shucking idiot then."

Allen huffed, **_boys were so dumb_**.

"Sit down and slim it," Alby ordered. "We're kicking no one out. The girl is just sleeping, Gally, and whatever issue you have with Thomas you can work out on your own."

Gally's cheeks grew slightly red from frustration, but he sat down.

"What about those Grievers, Minho?" Their leader continued, but Allen had slipped back in to the shadows and was walking away from the counsel before he heard Minho's repsonse.

Their conversation had nothing to do with him and he could offer them nothing on the conversation. He had seen no Grievers, he had not met that new boy, and he most certainly didn't want to be around another female _– (any female, all females?)._ What did need his attention was the fire that was dying out in front of him. A few Gladers were still away talking quietly to themselves around the ember glow of coals. Allen caught the shadows of the pudgy kid, Chuck, and the Greenie sneaking out from Frypan's kitchen with food tucked under their arms. It made Allen remember a time long ago when he would sneak into the kitchen late at night too and steal food for conversations only suitable to be had after dark. Long, long, long ago. An eternity it felt like since the last time Allen had snuck back in to that kitchen with the subconscious intention and hope of impressing a boy.

None of the other Keepers must have noticed Allen's absence, or cared enough to go out and bring him back, because for the rest of the night Allen sat in solitude next to the fire until the sun started to come back up. He tried to keep his mind clear of all thoughts, but ended up stuck on Newt and Gally. Emotions had been reborn in his chest during the meeting that he thought died a long time ago. A love triangle that one party never knew he was even a part of.

 ** _Shut up._** Allen hissed at mentally. **_We've talked about this. You'll drive yourself mad._**

The runners waking up and getting ready for their day shook Allen out of his thoughts. He threw another log in the fire-ring and started to retreat for the trees. Yawning from both emotional and mental exhaustion, Allen collapsed in his hammock and fell asleep in the blink of an eye.

A nightmare plagued his dreams as Allen slept through the day. He was running from a little girl with beautiful long brown curls that had a pink dress grasped tightly in one hand. Whispers echoed around the pair as they ran, "help!" said the whispers, "someone help me!" The pleas grew louder and louder until it felt as if a third party had joined them. Allen stopped mid sprint and turned to face the little burnette haired girl – _is that you?_ And when the little girl shook her head _no,_ Allen woke from his sleep.

"Help!" A boy yells echoed off the trunks of trees. "Hey! Someone help!"

Allen peered through the gaps and caught sight of a Glader named Ben sprinting after the newbie, Thomas. It took a moment to digest the scene. The crazy expression painted across Ben's face and the true panic in Thomas' voice meant that this was real terror and not a friendly game of tag.

"Someone help!" Thomas screamed as he ran.

Allen hopped out of the hammock and grabbed his axe as he joined the chase. He was quick and knew the trees well, so the distance between him and Ben closed fast. As the trio broke through the trees, the three of them where on each-others heels – one right after the other. Gladers had started to pick up on the cries from Thomas and were coming to the aid when Allen swung the blunt end of his axe to the side and hit Ben in the temple. He crumbled like a sack of potatoes.

"He's trying to kill me!" Thomas said perplexed, turning to see Ben laying on the ground and Allen hunched over him already checking his pulse.

"Who?" Newt had ran over when he saw the commotion, "- _Allen_?" He asked, extremely confused.

Allen looked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with Newt from a moment, freezing him in his place.

"What- no! That kid!" Thomas gestured to the boy starting to stir underneath Allen. "I was in the woods and he just attacked me." Allen took a moment to look down at Ben and immediately jumped off him. He had seen those markings before during his time as a Med-Jack. The black veins, glazed eyes - Ben had been bitten by a Griever.

Newt shook his gaze away from Allen and move it to Ben, "How the bloody hell did that shank get away from the med-jacks?"

Rather quickly, and without even a thank you, boys started to close out Allen from the scene. There was a lot of shouting as Ben finally woke and everyone started to get riled up. It took Alby, Gally, and Newt to bring Ben to the slammer and lock him in. Their looks were grim as they turned and left him.

* * *

 **B.T.**

"Well if this doesn't make me the happiest person here!" A boy hollered as he leapt into the cage, startling both twins.

This boy was tan with thick black curly hair down to his shoulders and a strong build. He was taller than either twin by at least six inches and smelled of sweat and musk. He wrapped Allen in a tight hug first, making both twins go rigid instantly, and then greeted Greg just the same.

"Two!" The boy yelled up to the bright sky, "There's shucking two of them!" He hugged Greg again. "Names George," the boy finally introduced himself holding Greg arms-length away. "You?"

It was the only time Allen had ever seen his brother pause, completely unsure of how to respond. "His name is Greg."

George turned from Greg to Allen with a fading smile. He looked differently at Allen, trying to figure out how that voice come from his body. Allen regretted it immediately, having not fully realized how different his voice was from his brother, and took a step back from the new boy. There was something in the look that George was giving him, like he was putting the pieces of their secret together.

"And you are?" He asked letting go of Greg.

"Allen." Greg said instantly, stepping between George and his brother. "My name is Greg and this is my twin brother Allen."

George took a second and compared the two before his smile came back full force. "Twins! That's the word I've been looking for. Throw the rope down, Alby. We've got us a set of twins!"

A long thick rope flew out from somewhere in the sunlight and coiled at their feet. George motioned for them to follow his lead and, after some effort, the twins pulled themselves out of their cage.

It was nauseating the first few minutes that Allen was in the Glade. He had to steady himself with one hand on Greg's bicep. Things were too bright. The grass was too green. The air was unfiltered and stung his lungs. Allen felt faint before he realized that although they were outside, they were trapped. Four skyscraping walls surrounded them on all sides – _from one cage into another._

There were only four other boys in the Glade when the twins had arrived, and George was prompt with introducing everyone. "This is Alby," he said, slapping a muscular black boy on the back as he coiled the rope. Alby stuck out one hand for them to shake, commented on their buzzed haircuts, and then stepped back in line.

"He's my right hand man. Couldn't do squat without him around. And this right here is Minho." An Asian boy, about the same size as the twins and just as lean with dark that shined like the outer shell of a black beetle, smiled genuinely at them. Instead of a handshake, Minho gave a light laugh. Both twins liked him instantly.

Finally, and with a little less emphasis, George introduced the last boy. "This is Gally. He was sent up last month, bit of a hard adjustment for him, but he's picking up now – aren't you Gal'?"

This one looked slightly younger than anyone else there, including the twins, but he was just as large as George. Gally nodded once and smiled at Greg and Allen, a little hesitant to show his true colors. Allen liked him the most.

Greg didn't miss a beat in manners, "Greg," he stuck out his hand for Gally to grab and went down the line of boys, "and this is my twin brother Allen."

It was a bit awkward after that. George had to explain everything to the twins. How, on the other side of those walls, there was an impossible maze and monsters that came out at night. Occasionally Alby would add in things like – "we've almost figured it out though, so don't get comfy," and "we've been running that thing every day."

Greg was the one that asked all the questions – " _Where does the food come from?" "There's no other way out?" "How do the monsters not get in?" "Why do you run it?"_ Everything a proper Newbie would ask on their first day and George answered every single one of them gleefully.

As the sun was setting the six boys had talked themselves to exhaustion. Allen hung close to Greg, but was liking this place more and more each second. Something about it screamed "home," to him. Beyond Greg, Allen couldn't remember much, but his instincts were still there and his instincts were telling him that these boys – Gally, Minho, Alby, and George – weren't bad people. They were just in a bad situation, trying to make the best of it.

She watched Gally from across the small fire pulling at grass and rolling it between his fingers. A stray thought crossed her mind, one she would never speak to Greg, but she couldn't help think about. They were all boys. All boys with muscles, deep laughs, and strong arms. It made her squeeze the muscle between her thighs tightly while goosebumps rose on her arm.

Allen shook his head and scratched his nose, trying to clear his thoughts.

"So tomorrow," George's voice cut in as a welcomed distraction. "I'll stick behind with the two of you and show you around. Sooner or later we'll figure out what you're good at and try to make something out of you. Right now we're all running the maze but if more Greenies come up next month we're going to need more jobs. I'll teach you how to run the Maze later, took Gally forever to get there, until then I think the Homestead needs some work and those animals ain't gonna feed themselves."

Greg nodded. He responded well to strong leadership and was liking this place just as much as Allen was. Everyone was being honest with them, nothing was hidden, which Greg appreciated. Maybe one day soon Greg would feel comfortable being honest with them too and tell their new friends how he really had a sister and not a brother.

But, as the nights faded in and the days went by, Greg never did feel comfortable telling any of the four boys about his secret sister. Allen didn't push it either, because honestly, he just didn't want to be treated differently. It was easier this way.

They had woken up the next day and helped George fix parts of the Homestead. The day after that, Gally taught Allen how to care for the animals while George showed Greg where they slaughtered them. Minho took the twins into the Map Room the day after and told them what they knew about the Maze. Alby was the one to show them what Grievers were through a crappy little window in the side of the wall, the following night. And eventually, after several weeks, the twins walked in to the Maze.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **I would like to start by saying - I AM SO, SO, SO SORRY for the absence. My life took a hard (and I mean _hard)_ right turn at the beginning of this year and I could not bring myself to post anything. My boyfriend of 4 years dumped me, I was diagnosed with chronic kidney stones which brought on a couple hospital visits/ kidney infections, and I lost my job all within the span of three days. It was a rough start to 2017. But- I'm back and feeling better! **

**If you've read this story while I was MIA - this is RE-WRITE. I had finished this story in the past but deleted it with the intentions of re-writing it and fixing some of the plot holes/errors. That plan is now officially back on. **

**Hopefully I don't lose too many followers (I know it can be obnoxious to have a story come back from the dead) but in the end, I just want you guys to enjoy the story and in order to achieve that I _have to_ fix the plot holes/errors. **

**If this is your first time reading - I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Please don't read too much of the review section. Most of the reviews are from my original posting of this story and might give away major events (Don't spoil it for yourself!)**

 **Everyone excited that the Death Cure is being filmed!?**

 **I'm Happy to be back. I've missed you guys.**

 **Alison**


	4. Chapter 4

Allen's eyes were closed as he lightly banged his head on the wall in the back of the gathering. Keepers and their top-men littered the room in front of him. Some boys leaned against the walls again, others sat, but no one stood taller than Alby who was stationed in the center. It was the second gathering in two days. Normally Allen would have tried to get out of this, or leave half way through like he had the previous night, but it was mandatory for him to be here. The sentencing of a Glader was always mandatory. Plus, Alby wanted Allen to share his side of the story from the time he woke up to the time he bashed Ben over the head with his axe.

"What I want to know is how Ben got away from you slintheads in the first place." Alby reared on Clint and Jeff, the resident Med-Jacks that had taken over after Allen stepped down from the position.

Clint stood from his seat and looked around nervously. "Well Jeff was out tending to the Slicers, Winston can tell you that – one of us is usually out there a few times a day, and if ain't them then we're with then it's the Builders." He looked down at Winston, who still wore his blood splattered apron and shit covered boots, praying for assistance. The Keeper of Slicers nodded in agreement. "And I was trying to feed the girl in the next room. The shank must've snuck right by me." Clint fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

Allen stopped hitting his head on the wall and cracked one eye open to see what Alby's expression was. He looked tired and warn with stress over having to make this decision. "Had he been talking about Thomas or saying anything odd, Clint? It's hard to believe Ben just woke up this morning wanting to murder the shucking Newbie."

"He was always moaning and groanin' at night, but nothing specific. It's not like he came up to me and was like, ' _Imma murder Thomas_.' I would have told ya' if he had, Alby."

Alby pinched the bridge of his nose, "anyone else got questions for Clint?"

Allen closed his eyes and began hitting his head softly on the wall again. Minho shuffled his feet, Frypan shifted in his chair, and Zart cleared his throat, but no one had any more questions.

"How about Thomas?" Gally's voice broke into the conversation, "How do we know that klunk-head wasn't the one trying to kill Ben? I mean come on," he stood and looked around the room accusingly, "we've known the Greenie, what, three days and Ben has been here almost 6 months." There were a few agreeing head shakes and grunts.

"Ben couldn't even kill a chicken when he was training with me," Winston spoke coldly. Allen cringed at his voice, that kid always gave him the creeps.

"Exactly." Gally was gaining momentum with his speech now that he had found someone to support him. "Ben is harmless, but Thomas-,"

 _"_ _Was_ harmless," a protective voice growled. "Ben _was_ harmless. I think everyone in this room can say that being stung by a bloody Grievers changes a shank forever. We don't know what Ben _is_ anymore." All eyes fell on Newt. Even Allen stopped hitting his head to pay attention.

Gally took the comment personally and his temper started to pick up. "You sayin' I could wake up one morning and kill someone?"

Newt peeled himself off the side of the wall where he was leaning and stepped towards Gally, "I think you'd be mad to say gettin' stung by a Griever ain't changed you, Gally!" His voice rose.

"Enough!" Alby roared over his friends.

Allen's eyebrows shot up in surprise from Alby's outburst. In his countless years here in the Glade, Allen had never seen Alby yell like that. The pressure of it all must be really starting to get to him.

"That's enough," he said again slightly calmer, a shadow of guilt crossing his face. "I'm sorry for yelling, but we're not here about Gally's changin', we're here about Ben's." Alby gave a few warning glances to the surrounding Gladers. "Did anyone else see Ben between him leaving the Homestead and gettin' knocked out?"

There was a stiff silence that blanketed the gathering. Alby rubbed the bottom half of his face where stubble was started to show and tensed his muscles in frustration. The stress of this job would eventually kill him if Grievers didn't get to him first. Finally he looked up and let out a deep sigh. "Alright, Allen, let's hear what you have to say."

It was the moment he'd been dreading the whole time. Speaking. Speaking wasn't allowed for Allen. In the beginning, when Greg was here, he would do it occasionally. But only in private or in the most extreme cases. He had learned his lessons on why it's better not to speak. There had been three slip ups while speaking that should have never happened and would have saved a lot of trouble if Allen had just kept his mouth shut. How he spoke, when he did, hurt as well. Greg had told him to make it low, froggy, and broken like someone who had taken a bat to the vocal-cords. Anything to mask his true voice. Trying to speak like that was painful on the throat and often resulted with him choking on his own snot. So when Greg died, Allen just gave it up all together. It'd been well over a year since anyone had heard him speak. The small hand gestures was good enough to communicate with Minho and that's all that mattered these days.

But now the pressure was on. Allen pushed off the doorframe he'd been leaning on and crossed his arms defensively towards the group of Gladers that had turned to face him. Some of the boys in the room had arrived after Greg's death and had gone their whole lives in the Glade without hearing him speak, their eyes were wide with anticipation and entertainment. The other Gladers, the older ones – Frypan, Minho, Alby, Newt, and Gally, looked on with stone faces.

Allen snorted back a pile of mucus so it coated and clogged the back of his throat, "They were runnin'." A few smiles from the uneducated Gladers broke out, laughing internally at Allen's voice. It was like a bullfrog trying to speak. "Greenie was screamin'." He looked straight ahead at Alby, trying to ignore the snickers that were beginning to escape from a few boys. "Woke me up. Chased 'em. Knocked him out."

By the time Allen finished speaking all but the oldest Gladers were struggling to hold back laughter. "-sound like a shucking pig, too, don't you Al'?" One of Gally's Builder's yelled out. The comment sent out a roar of laughter from everyone except the original Gladers.

Eye contact was maintained between Alby and Allen, hardly phased by the torment. "Quite." Alby ordered, the room taking a moment to settle down. "You saw Ben, then?"

Allen nodded once, arms still crossed and a face made of stone.

"You've seen more Changings the any of us, Al'. What' you think he was running after Thomas for?"

He shrugged. There had only been a few boys in the Glade that had been stung by Grievers – 6 to be exact- and all of them reacted differently. None of them were pleasant experiences, but the side effects were everything from death, to what happened to Gally, to no change at all.

"What about Thomas, did you see what he was doin' out in the trees before Ben started chasin' him?" Everything in the room started to fade away as the conversation between Alby and Allen progressed.

Allen shook his head, no.

"You tell me if you saw anything, right?"

He gave a genuine nod of loyalty.

"Alright, anyone else have any questions for Allen? If not, we're votin'."

There were a few snide questions meant for entertainment called out – _"When was the last time you took a shower?" "What's it like to sleep in klunk?" "How do you keep the flies away?"_ – but none of them pertaining to the situation.

Alby cleared his throat, "Alright then. Zart, Keeper of the Track-hoes, what is your vote?"

A thick blond boy covered in dirt stood up, "banish him." No one looked at Zart as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Winston?"

The Keeper of Slicers stood, "The shank is sick, Alby. Don't banish him."

Gally gave a grunt of approval for that vote and stood himself, "I agree. Don't banish him."

Alby pursed his lips, peeved Gally had spoken without being addressed. "Minho, Keeper of the Runners, what's your vote?"

"Banish him. He broke a klunking rule, so we have to stick to the shucking punishment." Minho rose from his seat as he spoke.

"What about you, Newt?"

Everyone turned to look at the Second in Command who was still staring daggers at Gally. "I'm with Minho. He broke the rules. Banish him."

Alby called on Frypan next, who refused to stand which meant he refused to vote. "You sure?" asked Alby.

"Banish him, keep him, either way I ain't being responsible for someone's life." The cook said. It was somewhat noble, Allen thought, to not pick either side. But at the same time, Frypan wasn't offering a solution either.

"Allen?" His name sounded around the room like a sharp bell.

He brought one hand up to the neck and made a quick slashing motion from side to side. "Al's with us," Minho confirmed for the group.

Alby gave him a firm nod of acceptance, then asked Clint what he voted for which was in favor of banishing Ben. Since it was 5 against two, and the majority ruled, Alby didn't have to vote.

"We'll do it as the walls are closing today," he said looking at the floor. "I'll go tell Ben." Allen took a hard look at Alby as the sentence fell from his mouth. He looked old. Tired. Like the decision had aged him a decade.

Allen didn't want to stick around and watch the Keepers sulk at the final decision. He backed out of the room and quickly turned to leave the group. Immediately outside the homestead all the Gladers stood waiting for the verdict in a tight clump. When Allen appeared the initial expression of excitement to hear news shined across multiple faces. The instant they realized that it was _only_ Allen who had come out, their expressions dropped and the boys parted to give him a clear exit.

A dark excitement rose in the Glade as the hours ticked down for when the Maze walls would be closing. No one wanted to see one of their own be pushed out, but at the same time, a banishment had only happened a few times before and no one wanted to miss an event. All of the Keepers were hiding in their designated areas. It was a horrid affair, one that would stick with each of them for the rest of their lives, and it was necessary to mentally prepare for it. Allen wasn't sure how he found himself kneeling in front of Greg's boulder, but there he was, with small tears cutting through the dirt and ash on his cheeks _. It was so unfair_ , Allen thought _, how Ben was being banished for attempting to hurt a Glader while his brothers killer was still walking around_.

"I wish you were here, 'Eg." A deeply sadden girls voice whispered. "So much has changed." He hick-upped and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Gally's not the same and Alby's too busy. Minho came up to me yesterday, but I think that's just because he felt bad for me." Allen wiped the tears away from his cheeks, smudging the dirt and smearing all the grime together. A memory of his brother standing at the foot of the Maze crept in to Allen's mind. He closed his eyes to focus on it better. **Greg had turned to look over his should and shined a smile at Allen. Minho ran up beside him then, ready for that days run.**

The image stopped Allen's tears and allowed him to breathe deeply. Greg would be yelling at him right now if he saw Allen sitting and crying like this – _like a girl_. He wiped the last sticky tear from the side of his face and cleared his throat. Greg would want Allen involved, helping, figuring out how to get out of this hell hole – not secluded to a clump of trees and bones.

A twig snapped behind Allen and he whirled around. Alby stood there with a long stick that had a pointed end. Allen sniffed away any remaining tears and stood up quickly. "Dead's dead." Alby said bitterly, looking through Allen and at the small collection of graves.

He stepped aside and looked at them himself.

"They ain't comin' back. You know that right, Al'?"

Allen looked up at Alby who was giving him a concern look. He nodded in understanding.

Alby handed him a long stick and gave one last longing look at George's grave. "You ain't the only one who's lost a brother in here," he said morosely. "I think about that shank every day. Wonder what he'd say if he saw me now."

Allen twitched a sad smile, "George'd be proud." He whispered.

It was the same voice that spoke when George had jumped down in the cage. The same voice that had just been speaking to Greg's boulder. _A girl's voice_ that would raise so many red flags, Allen would have been stripped and examined in a heartbeat. But Alby wasn't listening. No one ever really listened. He was too lost in his own thoughts to be listening.

"Be by the west wall in ten." Alby handed him the stick he brought with him and left.

Allen watched him leave and then stared up at the tall, pointy stick in his hands. The sight of the object made his skin crawl more than usual. Tiny invisible ants ran across the back of his neck and arms, stomach and thighs. Allen shivered at the feeling hoping it would go away, but knowing it never would unless he showered.

"They ain't comin' back." She repeated Alby's words, then walked from the grave yard to the west wall of the Glade.

The boys had created a dome around the opening of the Maze. Each one standing shoulder to shoulder with watchful eyes. Allen pushed his way through the human chain and walked in to the middle where the rest of the Keepers were waiting with their own sticks. No one talked.

Alby and Gally pushed through the crowd a moment later, each one holding on to one of Ben's elbows. The look of terror carved into the poor boys face, right next to the last few remaining black and blue veins.

Minho picked up the longest stick laying on the ground and started to fiddle with the end where a collar had been created and tied on. He roped it around Ben's neck and gave the stick to Alby to hold.

The Keepers took their positions on either side of Alby. A formation they had never practiced, but never forgot from the previous times of banishment. A low rumble began to echo from the inside of the Maze signaling its closure. Each keeper dropped their sticks to their sides and pointed the ends at Ben. The remaining Gladers watched on in an excited horror.

"Ben of the Runners," Alby started. "We've voted to banish you for the attempted killing of Thomas, the Newbie. Breaking one of the three Glader rules. The Keepers have made up their minds and their minds ain't changing." The wall started to grind together. Alby and the Keepers took a step forward, pushing Ben in. He started to panic for help, thinking there was still time. They took another step forward, pushing Ben in further. The wall was more than half way closed now and the panic turned to anger.

Ben started hollering, promising to get his revenge and that Thomas would get them all killed. The Keepers took another step forward, making sure Ben was inside the Maze nice and good. In the last foot of opening to the Maze, Ben swore his life that they'd all regret this and Alby threw the stick half of the collar in after him.

When the wall slammed shut Ben's cries of anger were shut out too.

All the Keepers turned to leave at once except for Allen who stayed put and stared at the closed doors with his pointy stick firmly gripped in one hand. Boys slowly left the area, retreating to gossip and mourn the loss of a fellow Glader. Allen remained. He wasn't thinking of anything, he just couldn't move. The uncomfortable sensation of invisible ants crawling all over his skin froze him in place. His skin was on fire with itch.

"What the shuck are you still-," a firm hand landed on Allen's shoulder but Gally's voice stopped once he spun the boy around and looked upon Allen. More tears had carved new canyons into the dirt and dead skin on Allen's face. Gally pursed his lips with anger. "Knock that klunk off, you hear me?" He hissed at Allen. "Knock it off or I'll give you somethin' real to cry about."

* * *

 **B.T.**

Allen's feet didn't move an inch after the initial few steps in to the Maze. Greg had already left him behind and was now nearly 12 feet in front of Allen, looking around widely like it was Christmas morning. George was right next to him, feeding off of Greg's high energy and explaining everything about how the Maze works.

"You look sick Al', you alright?" Gally came up next to him, peering down at Allen with a concern. Allen had to look up at his friend, who was tall while he was short. It was part of the reason why Allen had come to like Gally so much. When Greg wasn't around, he made Allen feel safe.

He shook his head quickly, but couldn't get himself to turn his back on his twin and leave. It was like something was waiting for Allen to stop paying attention so it could come out and eat Greg.

"Hey George!" Gally hollered, taking his eyes off Allen for a second, "Allen ain't feelin' well. We'll be back in the Glade getting dinner ready."

George and Greg turned and yelled back, saying they'd be out for a bit longer before quickly becoming engrossed in the Maze once more.

"Come on," Gally ushered Allen out of the Maze with one firm hand between his shoulders.

When they arrived back in the soft grass of the Glade Allen instantly felt better. The fear that had clogged his heart and mind was starting to vanish and he could breathe again. He doubled over and the urge to vomit, but nothing came up. Gally laughed, "lot better than how I handled it the first time," he said trying to make his friend feel better. "George and Alby had to pick me up 'cause I had rolled into a ball on the floor and wouldn't move. You'll be alright."

Gally patted his friend on the back and then gave Allen a light squeeze on his shoulder. Blood scurried its way to the surface of Allen's cheeks. "Thanks," he mumbled deeply and shrugged Gally's hand off. Allen righted himself and looked back to see George and Greg disappear around a corner.

"They'll be fine. George knows the Maze better than anyone. Come on-" Gally said again as he nudged Allen forward, "I'll help you with dinner."

Allen didn't actually need help making dinner, Gally just liked to pretend he did so he could pick at the food and talk as Allen made it. This was the second reason why Allen had taken to Gally so quickly. The kid talked. He talked a lot. Gally would go on and on about different things and what he thought he remembered before the Glade. He would tell Allen things about Grievers and how he could have sworn he saw Alby punch one so hard it flew back three feet. Gally also knew a lot about how to build things and spent a good portion of his time saying that one day he's going to ask George if that's all he could do; just build and fix things for the Glade. Allen enjoyed his talking, while most of the other boys found it irritating. They made a good pair. Whenever there was a task to be finished or grunt work to be done, Allen and Gally were sent off together while the rest of the group went for a run or made maps. It was nice having a friend.

They were in the kitchen peeling potatoes when a beetle blade dashed across the window sill and out of site, startling Allen so much that he squeaked and tossed his hand to the side without looking. The knife he had been using to shave potatoes with nicked Gally in the shoulder and left a deep gash. Blood started to stream down his arm instantly.

"Aye, watch'it!" Gally dropped his potato and look at the cut.

"I'm so sorry!" Allen snatched up a towel on the counter and pushed it against Gally's skin. "It scared the klunk out of me. Sit down." She said, ushering Gally in to a chair. Allen rolled up Gally's sleeve past the curve of his shoulder to expose his arm. The cut was deep enough to justify stitches. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Allen grabbed Gally's other hand and made him apply pressure to the wound while she ran to the homestead where she knew there were string and needles for sewing.

When Allen returned Gally was right where she had left him, but looking slightly paled with panic from how much blood the towel had absorbed. "What's that for?" He asked eyeing the thread and needle.

"You need stitches or else it'll take forever to heal." Allen looked Gally in the eyes, "It's going to hurt. Will you let me fix it?" She half pleaded feeling extremely guilty.

Gally eyed him but then nodded once and looked away from his shoulder to stare at the floor. Allen threaded the needle and gave the string some good length. She bit her lip nervously and then leaned in, gripping Gally's arm with one hand and the needle in the other.

It went quiet for nearly half an hour as Allen clumsily sewed Gally's skin back together. It was a bloody affair, one that would make most people queasy, but Allen handled it well. Lost somewhere in her memory were the countless hours of observing doctors stitch back together boys and girls. She could do this.

"There." Allen finally said after heaving a deep breath and looking at her handy work. "It'll bleed a little, and I'll need to clean it every so often, but you should be fine."

Gally's muscles unclenched and he looked down at the cut now covered in thin white string – it wasn't as neat and perfect as Allen thought with lines of string zig-zagging every which way.

Allen took the towel and wetted it under a nearby sink to wipe away the rest of the blood that had run down Gally's arm. She touched him lightly with delicate fingers, taking a moment too long to do the job. She caught him looking at her with transfixed fascinated eyes and quickly dropped her gaze from Gally's skin. Allen rolled his sleeve down and walked back to the sink to ring out the bloody towel.

She heard Gally's chair scoot backward as he stood and walked up behind her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled up.

"Allen?" He said.

He looked over his shoulder at Gally, raising his brows as if to say _'what?'_

Gally's tone went soft. "Why were you talking different when you were fixing me?"

Allen went rigid with fear. His lips pressed together hard enough to make them appear to be one straight line. _Had he let his guard down during the panic from cutting Gally?_ He shrugged stiffly, not knowing what else do and hoping the motion would suffice. Allen could feel Gally's gaze digging in, examining every last inch of him, trying to piece what he heard and what he saw together.

"You hiding something from me, Al'?"

* * *

 **Alright, so this chapter is where things are starting to differ from the original story. For those of you that have read this before - I left out introducing Newt in this chapter because it felt rushed in the original story sequence and I wanted to elaborate more on Allen/Gally's relationship before bringing Newt into the Glade. I also cut out a scene all together that I wish I had never written in the first place (yay for re-writes). If you're new to this story and want to know the scene that I cut out entirely, go ahead and PM me and I'll give you the run-down if you're interested but it really has nothing to do with the plot.** **Hopefully these changes improve the story overall.**

 **Let me know what you guys think and I hope everyone has a great weekend!**

 **-Alison**


	5. Chapter 5

Gally had given him something to cry about. A purpling bruise crested Allen's right cheek bone with a small, bleeding crack in the skin at the peak. He touched the area just below and winced at the tenderness. The pain gave Allen something else to focus on besides how much his skin itched and the dead skin that flaked off him with every movement. The pain helped remind him that things weren't good here, that no matter how many patterns Allen sets up for protection or how many people he avoids, something or someone will always come around to put him in his place.

He had one foot dangling over the edge of his hammock. Staring straight up into the leaves he had nothing but white noise crowding his thoughts as his fingers ran over the bruise from Gally. It wasn't until the very distinct crunching noise of approaching footsteps did Allen start to come back to reality.

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

"Allen?"

Never in the history of the Glade had so many people bugged him in such a short time frame. He groaned quietly under his breath, trying to calculate the odds of them noticing him in the hammock and how long it would take them to leave if he stayed quiet.

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

 **Crunch Crunch Crunch *pause**

"Allen!" He yelled louder. "Come on man, this place gives me the creeps." The voice was close enough now to recognize; it was Zart, a boy who hardly came out to the Dead Heads unless he was looking for mushrooms or mulch.

Allen closed his eyes in protest before reaching down and picking up the nearest object – his axe. He swiveled around in his hammock and spotted Zart walking nearby and began to repeatedly hit his axe on an empty bucket sending out a locating signal. The crisp crunch of dead leaves picked up as Zart turned and headed his way.

"I hate this shucking place," He heard Zart mumbled under his breath. As he got closer Zart hollered, "Gally and Newt need!-" but stopped midsentence and watched Allen pull himself out of the hammock. Zart wondered for a moment how boy could look so fragile. Like Allen had been made out of ancient porcelain that had been dropped in a pile of mud and left on a shelf to dry and crack. Zart's mouth hung open as he watched Allen slip his shoes on and stand up. Allen's hair had grown out, he noticed. His collar bones protruded out, the fresh bruise on his cheek looked like blush.

Allen straightened himself and caught Zart staring at him. He gave Zart a look of, _'what the shuck are you looking at?'_

"I-I um," Zart pulled his eyes away and cleared his throat. "Somethings wrong out in the Maze, they want you there."

 _Great_ , Allen thought. He had to go, as weird as it was to be asked about something to do with the Maze, there was nothing that would excuse him from showing up. Allen rolled his head on his shoulders and then started to begrudgingly move towards the center of the Glade with Zart close at his heels. The farmer followed him like a lost puppy.

As the trees faded behind them and the group of boys that had collected by one of the Maze doors neared, Allen could feel the level of tension begin to rise. Something was definitely wrong.

Gally and Newt were standing back from the main group of Gladers that had crowded around the Maze. Allen stopped a foot to the left of Gally, so the three were standing in a perfect line, shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them addressed Allen, which was fine since Allen didn't want to be addressed by either of them anyways. He'd much rather just stand quietly and listen.

"Any sign of them yet?" Zart asked, stopping close to Newt and break the perfect alinement that the original Gladers had made.

Allen listened for the answer, but didn't look over. It would show too much interest. "Minho will be back. Shank' never misses a closing-,"

"Minho?" The name popped out of Allen's mouth before he had time to close it. Newt and Gally's head's turned in his direction – laying eyes on Allen as if he was uninvited to the whole event. He didn't care, their opinions were old news, what he did care about was Minho. Alarm rose at an unprecedented speed in Allen's chest.

Newt turned his focus back on the Maze door, "and Alby." He stepped forward and started walking to the doors as the rumble from inside echoed its closure.

The gears in Allen's head worked fast. Alby and Minho were still out in the Maze and the Maze was closing. Why Allen had been pulled from the Dead Heads by Zart had suddenly become very apparent. With Minho and Alby facing certain death, he, Gally, and Newt were now the next in line for commanding the Glade based on seniority. Allen lunged forward, which pushed Gally in to motion right behind him. The three boys pried their way through the group of boys.

Allen and Gally pushed to the front of the crowd just in time to see two figures turn a corner. One was badly slumped in an unconscious manner while the other was trying his best to drag him along. It was them; Minho and Alby. Allen could recognize those sweaty faces anywhere. Everyone started to cheer for Minho and Alby as the opening to the Glade got smaller and smaller. Alarm and panic continued to grow inside Allen's chest as the doors got closer to shutting completely.

"Someone has to go in after them," she hissed outloud. The words hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't lose Minho and Alby. He couldn't lose any more people. They couldn't just leave them out there. They had been there since the beginning. Before Gally, before Allen, before Newt. There was no way they could just be left out – not when they were this close to safety.

Quick and rhythmic heartbeats were the only thing that could be heard in Allen's ears as she took a step forward, breaking the threshold of the Maze and separating herself from the rest of the group. She would go get them. She would save them. But before she could go in any further, a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back as a second body sprinted forward into the Maze just before the doors finally squeezed closed.

* * *

 **B.T.**

Allen was hiding something. An obvious something, he had always thought, but apparently boys were a little thicker than he originally assumed. As Gally stood in front of him the kitchen seemed to tighten around them. He could run for it. Run for the Maze and find Greg somehow so they could run away together and find a way out before their secret was exposed.

"Al' I asked you a question," Gally closed the gap between them and stared intensely down at Allen. She tried to wiggle out to the right, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Allen…say something."

She stopped and looked up at him with wide eyes. Her lips parted just slightly. Words fell just short of her throat and not a sound came out. _Gally can't know,_ they thought. _No one is supposed to know. What if he tells? What if he tells the rest of them? What will they do to us? How quickly will they kick us out? What will happen to Greg_ _ **?**_

"Please," a word finally managed to surface, "please, don't tell anyone," she begged him. Fear started to flood through her body and panic showed in her cheeks as a bright red. Caught like a deer in headlights, there was nothing she could do but wait to be ran over.

Gally didn't have a proper expression for what he was feeling. A mixture of excitement and giddiness boiled over in his chest. **_Girl_** – was all that ran through his mind. **_A shucking girl. Allen's a shucking girl_**.

"Please…" Allen begged again after a long moment of tense silence. "Don't tell any-,"

He shook his head, "No. No, of course not. I promise." Gally stepped away and spun around trying to find his bearings. When he turned to face Allen again he had a ridiculous smile on his face. "How?" Was the first question in a long list of questions that Gally was starting to form. In front of him stood a girl – _of course! How stupid could he be? Look at her!_ Take away the short hair, dirt, and baggy clothes and there she is. _But weren't they supposed to have_ -, "where are your, you know?" Gally made an awkward gesture around his chest.

Allen's cheeks turned crimson and she quickly headed for the door. She needed to find Greg, immediately. Gally managed to stop her again though and held her in place with one hand on each shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said still smiling, "Sorry. I'm just trying to understand. How – **_why?_** "

She tried to shrug out of his grip but he wouldn't budge. "Let me go," Allen swatted down his hands and headed for the door again. This time she made it out and started to march across the center of the Glade with Gally hot on her heels.

"Allen!" He said, "Allen just wait a minute! Come on, I said I wasn't gonna tell no'one."

Allen pressed on and straight towards the nearest opening of the Maze.

"Would you stop for a second and just talk to me?" Gally reached out and barely missed gripping on to her arm, "Al! Please? You know I ain't gonna rat you out if you don't want that."

She walked a full three feet straight in to the Maze before stopping and realizing where she was before she froze. The walls on either side of her seemed to curve over her head. The anxiety of being found out and messing up her and Greg's life in the Glade dawned on her as Allen stared up at the cage that she was forced in to. Hiding had been the only option up until this point. Hiding who she was for the safety of herself and Greg – to not get separated, to be protected, to stick together. She couldn't be a girl, _it wasn't allowed._

Allen swayed on her feet as she looked in to the never ending Maze before collapsing to the ground.

When Allen woke up the first thing she saw was Greg hovering over her. She took a deep breath in and tried to pull herself up off the flat surface she'd been laid out on. Greg put a hand on her chest and pushed her back down. "Don't move too much, Al'."

She settled on leaning back on her elbows instead. "Greg, Gally figured-."

"I know." He stepped away from his twin and looked around the room. They were alone in one of the upper portions of the homestead. "He told me when we got back from running as soon as we were alone. The slint-head had the balls to just come out and say it." Greg sighed, "but he hasn't told anyone else."

The twins stayed silent for a moment, both of them trying to calculate what the odds were of this situation getting any worse. "I'm sorry, 'Eg." She whispered in case someone was on the other side of the door. "I cut him when we were in the kitchen by accident and I panicked. I didn't catch myself talking like a shucking girl in time."

Greg shook his head in rejection of the apology, "Al-,"

"Do you have to call me that right now?"

"Yes. Allen. It's your name, no matter who finds out about you. It's who you are now, do you understand?" Greg walked over to her and became serious. "If Gally keeps his word, which I'll make sure he does, then all that means is that we still have to keep our secret from everyone else. No one can know who you are."

She dropped her head. Greg was always right.

"Al," he started again dropping his tone to a more concerned volume, "you have to be more careful. Gally is pretty harmless but I don't know what would happen if Alby and George found out. Honestly, at this point, you shouldn't be talking at all. Just listening to you now -," he couldn't look at his twin, "well it sure as klunk ain't easy to hear you anymore. You've changed too much."

"I'm sorry," Allen mumbled.

"Don't apologize, it's not you're fault. It's just frustrating." Greg pursed his lips and realized that their secret was getting more difficult to hide with each passing day. "You just need to try harder. Keep your head down, ok? Let me speak for you and if you do have to say somethin' make sure you mask your voice, good that?"

She gave a small nod, unable to look at her brother.

They sat in silence a moment longer taking comfort in the solitude of it just being them again, even if it was for a brief moment. Allen wished for nothing else but for it to be just her and Greg again. The day they get out of here seemed so far away and unrealistic.

"You feel ok, though?" Greg finally broke the silence.

She nodded again, then just barely above a whisper said, "got scared I think, that's all. Haven't had water all day neither." Allen sat upright and swung her legs over the side of make shift bed.

"Gally made up a good story sayin' that you guys were fixin' something out by the barn and you slipped n' hit your head real hard. We'll stick with it for everyone else. He told me the real story though, 'bout you runnin' into the Maze to try and find me. Do you not want me to go out anymore? I can stay here-,"

"No," Allen said quickly. Running was one of the few things that had ever made Greg happy as far as she could remember. "I'll be alright."

He shook his head, appreciating how much his twin understood what running meant to him. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who?"

"Gally,"

Allen almost laughed, "that kid couldn't hurt a fly."

"Alright, well, no more passin' out, good that? And take care of yourself for godsake, Allen. I can't be here every minute to make sure you're eating and drinking enough." Greg stretched and looked a little more relieved about the situation. "Gally's been asking to see you since I locked us in here. You want me to tell him to shuck off?"

"I think we should explain it better to him," Allen suggested, "maybe if we tell him the whole story he won't use it against us. Sympathize with us or somethin' and realize how important the secret is."

Greg shrugged, "he already knows, I guess it couldn't hurt to explain. I'll get him."

It wasn't hard to find Gally. When Greg stepped out of the room the boy was sitting patiently on the third step from the top of the staircase playing with callouses on his hands, waiting for his opportunity to see Allen. When Gally heard the door open he stood up quickly, eager to hear what was happening. Greg raised an eyebrow then motioned Gally to follow him.

The twins started from the beginning with Greg doing most of the talking. They tried to piece together all they remembered about what happened before the Maze. It had become apparent to the twins early on that they had better memories than the rest of the boys, but it was just another thing they kept to themselves to keep the attention off of them. Gally had very few questions by the time they were done. He believed them when they said that Allen being the only girl in the Glade wasn't safe, especially if more boys were coming up each month, and that the environment in general wasn't suited for females. The only thing he was still confused about was the _physical_ appearance of Allen.

"how do you guys, you know – hide her stuff?" Gally made another awkward hand motion over his chest and stopped when he saw Greg's expression. It was the closest Allen had ever seen Greg look like an overprotective brother.

Greg's lips were pursed and all blood had drained from his face in anger. "That's none of your business."

Gally paled in embarrassment and dropped his gaze.

Allen rolled her eyes, not seeing the big deal. "We strap them down." She lifted her shirt over her chest and revealed a set of extremely tight bonds made out of fabric, thin rope, and knots.

* * *

 **Again, kind of branching off from the original story by adding more details. The "B.T." section of this chapter is entirely new, but still goes along with the original story line. I didn't like how I completely skipped over Gally's reaction to finding out Allen was a girl, so Iput it in this time around.**

 **Sorry for missing last week, there will be two chapters posted this week.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Alison**


	6. Chapter 6

"Thomas!" Chuck squeaked right next to Allen. The poor boys face had become overrun with blotchy red patches and little drops of sweat. He, like everyone else, was completely mortified. "It was Thomas!"

"Thomas?" A boy in the back of the crowd yelled.

"The Greenie?" Another called back.

Allen felt the arm around her waist retreat. The movement dragged her thoughts back to reality. She had been confused by the last images of Alby and Minho that would ever grace the Glade again - Minho struggling to desperately drag an unconscious Alby to safety but not quite making it. The look of pure defeat overtaking Minho's face as the door closed. Unable to make it the last ten feet to safety.

She tuned back in to a world that seemed to be moving in slow motion. Another two original Gladers gone. Allen looked down as the arm holding her back let go completely. She turned to face the boy who had stopped her from saving Minho and Alby.

She was surprised to see the dusty and sun beaten face of Zart.

At first there was anger. No one ever touched her anymore unless it was Gally coming in for another punch. No one was _allowed_ to touch her. Then there was confusion. Zart was a nobody to her and her a nobody to Zart. By the time he had arrived in the Glade Greg was dead and Allen was starting to hunker down in the Dead Heads. They had never talked besides the few time he had wandered into her area a few times to collect mushrooms or compost. She had stolen a few carrots from the gardens, or strawberries when they were ripe, but that was it. Nothing more than a side glance or two in the several years that they had been here together.

Allen ended with an uncomfortable feeling of longing etched across her face and in her soul. Someone had voluntarily touched her and it hadn't been violent. No one had touched her in years, not even when Greg was around, and here was Zart – ignoring her smell, hostile attitude, and ungodly appearance to reach out and stop her from doing something stupid.

He looked down at her, their proximity too close for typical males, and noticed that Allen's eyes were a little too large to be a boys. Questioning his own actions as to why he had even been paying enough attention to Allen to begin with.

Allen quickly backed away and cleared her throat, turning away from Zart before anything could be said or pieced together.

"'Ay shanks!" Newt called while standing on a pig trough. "Everyone listen up!" More boys turned. "I got somethin' to say. Shucking slim it!" Finally it went quiet and all eyes were on Newt. He took a deep breath, "It's only shucking natural I pick up this tosh. So I say things carry on as normal until those klunking doors open tomorrow morning. If the three of them ain't standin' there waitin' for us bright'n early then we'll hold some bloody services and carry on with our lives."

The words were heavy but did have a note of hope for Minho, Alby, and Thomas still living till tomorrow. Newt wore a stone cold face bracing himself for the worst but hoping for the best.

"Minho's been running this shucking thing since before I got here and if anyone can do it, it's that shank." There were a few half-hearted cheers, "and Alby's the toughest kid in here, so whatever happened to him in there he can live with it." Another round of hopeful cheers. "And the Greenie-," pain shot across Newt's face at the sudden loss of his new friend, "well I'd be a pile of klunk if I thought Thomas wasn't fast." A rather emotional crackly cry was heard from Chuck. "We just gotta wait, so make yourselves nice'n comfy. Keepers, if ya' could come over here."

It was Deja-Vu. Only this time it was this time it was Newt calling together the Keepers and not Alby. And instead of just George being gone, there were three Gladers. A new record for the Glade. Still, the grim expressions of Allen's fellow Keepers held strong to those of the past. As the eight remaining Keepers moved forward, Allen felt like he had walked this course twice before. It was a death march. The earthly crunch of dirt being dug up to make new graves already echoing in everyone's ears.

Newt had a somber look, aging almost twenty years in five minutes since the Maze doors closed. "Listen up, n' listen good 'cause I'm only gonna say this klunk once." Each Keeper stood below him, waiting for their first orders from their temporary leader. "I don't know how this is gonna end, but either way we can't let it get the best of us. Frypan I want you to bring dinner out here. Clint, maybe if you got a few pills for Chuckie and Minho's runners, help get their pretty little heads ready for sleep – you got me?" Clint nodded and followed Frypan who had already jogged off. "Gally do me a favor, and it's not sissy work neither, gather all the blankets you can find and bring 'em out. Boys'll need 'em."

Gally nodded, casted a quick cold glance at Allen, and lumbered off to call for his men to help. Newt hopped down from the pig trough and looked to Winston next, "not much you can do for the boys, but if you got any of that fire drink you make, I'd sure take some. Zart why don't you go with him?" The butcher gave a wicked smile and winked before he and the farmer walked away together. Zart shooting his own last glance towards Allen, still stuck on the odd observations he had early about the boy.

And then it was just Allen and Newt. "Do what you do best, Allen." Newt could look at him as he spoke, focusing on a patch of grass and Gladers a hundred feet away. "Make the shadows go away."

A sharp pain of empathy hit Allen right in the chest as Alby's last words to him, ' _you aint the only one who's lost a brother,_ ' danced around in his thoughts. Newt had lost Alby. The closest thing he had ever had to a real family. Allen could understand that loss, better than anyone. He had been there and it wasn't fun. He tried to suppress the dark thought of being slightly happy that Newt finally felt his pain, since he was ultimately the cause of Allen's.

Allen tried to make it about the rest of the Gladers – for them he would build a fire. As he turned to go collect wood from his stock pile, Newt's broken voice spoke out once more. "You think…" he rubbed the back of his neck, "you think they'll be alright?" desperate eyes reached out to Allen's.

This was no time to let personal feelings interfere, but at the same time, there was no right answer. So he looked at Newt for a moment, wondering why he thought he had the right to seek comfort in him, and then left without saying a word.

It took half an hour to transport all the wood over and set up a decent sized fire pit. As the light was dimming and kindling was being collected, boys started to gather around in anticipation of the fire being lit. Allen struck a match and threw it in the center where a nest of old paper and dry twigs sat waiting. A few hard puffs of air and a strong flame burst in to life. More boys gathered and became mesmerized by yellow, red, and orange flame. A peaceful silence started to fall. Allen surveyed the boys around him – Gally still rolling grass between his fingers, seemingly unchanged for a brief second.

Allen was going to leave the group and retreat to process the events of the day – Minho and Alby being gone, Zart stopping her from entering the Maze, and Newt coming to him for help. But before he could, a small conversation broke out.

"You think they'll be alright?" Rick asked Roy hoarsely from beside the fire. The pair had made themselves comfortable next to the pit, sitting back to back for support, wrapped in a large cotton blanket.

Roy shrugged, "Grievers are nasty. Never found a shred of Ben after he was thrown in did we?" Ears pricked up to the young boy's discussion. The desire for anyone else to talk was minimal.

"Yeah, but this is Alby we're talkin' about. Gally said he once saw that shank punch a Griever and sent it sailin' 300 feet off." A smile tugged at the sides of Allen's lips. He remembered that story too, and found it amusing it had gone from 3 feet, to 30 feet, to 300 feet over the years. Rick continued, "Then Minho's the fastest kid in here. No one is faster than Minho. Bet he could run all night avoidin' Grievers."

Boys nodded in agreement with Ricks observations, looking like a bunch of old men huddled around discussing politics. "Not if he's haulin Alby around all night," Roy argued, sending out another round of nods from the surrounding boys.

"They've got Thomas." Rick said reassuringly, "Thomas will help. You've known 'em the longest, what do you think, Newt?"

Newt stepped out of the night to reveal himself- standing closer to Allen than Allen would prefer. The sudden appearance took him by surprise, who hadn't notice Newt standing so close. "They'll be alright," Newt muttered, trying to convince himself. "But it's Gally and Al' who've known Minho and Alby longest, not me."

"Suspect they'll be ok, too. Don't know why Greenie went in after them though, if they do show up we're gonna have to send him right back in." Gally stated without having to be asked for his opinion. A lot of boys looked up to him, even if it was out of intimidation. But hearing Newt and Gally agree on something lifted the atmosphere significantly. It was like the bliss that came along when two argumentative parents got along.

"What about you, pigsty?" A couple of boys chuckled at Roy's nickname for Allen.

Allen looked up from the flames and glanced at Roy, thinking of how to respond. He could shrug, like normal, and walk away. He could just nod toward Gally or Newt to signal that he agrees with them. He could shake his head simply, which would imply a disagreement that Alby, Minho and Thomas would live through the night. Or, Allen could say that he's seen better men die in the Maze and less skilled ones make it out. That the Maze was a bitch when it came to picking and choosing the boys who got to come home at the end of the day and it was a long time since someone hadn't. – But that was too much talking. Too many words that could end in a slip up. Too many moments for someone to look at Allen and say, 'you sound like a girl.'

Allen shrugged and left.

It had been a longer day that he had originally anticipated. The bruise on his cheek was darkening in color but at least the swelling had gone down. Thoughts and concern raced across his mind about Minho and Alby, hell – even the Greenie. No one deserved to die here, ever. Allen's feet dragged as he got closer to the hammock. It wasn't a physical exhaustion, but rather an emotional one. Too much had happened over the last few days. Gatherings, a banishment, getting hit my one boy then saved by another, and the last image of Minho and Alby swimming around in his mind.

* * *

 **B. T.**

"No, see you can't do that. It'll look like klunk and fall apart too easily." Gally ripped the hammer out of Allen's hands and pried out the nail she had just wedged into a board. He handed her another nail and the hammer back, then pointed to where it needed to go. "Just tiny little hits, you don't have to swing it like a shucking weirdo."

Allen and Gally had spent most of the morning trying to finish the Barn that Gally had slowly been putting together since he arrived in the Maze. The rest of the boys were off running, leaving the pair to tend to the Glade like always.

Holding the nail between her pointer finger and thumb, Allen started to hit the nail lightly on the head. Nothing happened.

"Little harder."

Allen tapped a little harder.

" _Little_ harder."

She swung it back and the hammer landed just a centimeter to the left, right on her thumb. A cry launched from Allen's lips as she dropped everything and squeezed her hand over her thumb, trying to stop the throbbing.

Gally gritted his teeth together in sympathy as he watched her dance around, "well that was good, but you just have to hit the nail. Aim is all it is, Al'." Allen turned and glared daggers at Gally. He held back a chuckle and teasingly put his hands up in surrender.

She took a deep breath and tried to not lash out at him. It was high noon now and the sun was probably starting to get to her. Gally was trying his hardest to stay positive even though Allen couldn't hammer a nail to save her life and the time it was taking them to finish was nearly three times as long as it would take him to do it by himself.

"look, it's super easy." Gally picked up the hammer and nails, "just hold it and keep your eyes open to watch where you're going." He hit the head of the nail square on and the pointy-end came out the other side.

Allen looked begrudgingly at the board with Gally's nail in it, "can we please do something else?" she begged in a low voice.

He felt a great sense of pride whenever Allen spoke to him normally. Like he was part of some monumental secret. It wasn't often, even when they were alone, since she was still afraid someone else might hear. "I promised George I'd have it done today. He's countin' on me and I don't want to give him a reason to think I can't do more of this klunk. So just-," he looked around for something Allen could do. "try and straighten some of the nails you bent this morning."

There was a small tin can full of bent nails that Allen had infact ruined earlier this morning. She sighed and found a nice sized rock to straighten them with, then sat down and got to work. Allen worked slowly more focused on the other chores she had to do while Gally started to hammer furiously. Working on the fence much faster and efficiently than he was with Allen helping.

It'd been a few days since Gally found out about Allen's secret and so far it wasn't too bad. He hadn't told anyone like he promised and that's all Allen and Greg could really ask for. He'd grown a little protective which irritated Allen more than it did Greg, who almost encouraged the behavior while he away running during the day.

"You interested to see the new kid today?" Gally asked, trying to start up a conversation.

Allen shrugged. The twins had been told about the monthly additions to the Glade. The addition of a new member could mean an asset or a burden for the group as a whole.

"Suspect it'll be another boy, but maybe not-," he looked over his shoulder at Allen with an encouraging smile. "Ya' never know, maybe you'll get a friend or something and won't have to be so secretive anymore…or smelly. You know you can take a shower more than once every two weeks, right?"

Allen laughed, she wished she could take a shower more often. "Greg's convinced it keeps the rest of the boys away."

"That's good and all, but what about me? The rest of the boys aren't around you all day and no offense Al', but you sure as klunk don't smell like a girl."

She gave him a look that said _'obviously.'_ "What time do they get here?"

Gally tapped away on the side of the barn, attaching the last few panels. "Around the time the wall starts to close. George will get the runners to come back early today so everyone is here. Just like we were when you and Greg got arrived."

"Think it'll be two again?"

"Doubt it." He hauled up another side panel. "George and Alby are convinced the only reason you two came up at the same time is because you're twins. So unless whoever is sending up people has a stash of twins somewhere, it'll probably be just one."

Allen was a little taken aback by Gally's admission, "George and Alby talk about us?"

Gally shook his head, trying to right his statement. "We all talked about you the first few days when you guys got here. Gettin' a feel for who you are and all. Don't talk about you anymore. We'll do the same for the Greenie when he gets here. Try and figure out the type of person he is and stuff."

The pair fell quiet for about an hour while Gally finished the barn. He motioned for Allen to help him pick up and by the time the two were done with everything they had just enough time left to chop some wood. Allen preferred this chore over any other. It was simple, useful, and something he could do well.

"There's gonna be an alarm when the Greenie is coming up, good that? Don't want you stabbing me again 'cause you got scared."

Allen rolled her eyes, "I'd never seen a beetleblade so close. I wasn't _scared,_ I was _surprised_."

"Whatever you say," Gally chuckled. "Just make sure you're not holdin' that axe when it goes off. You'll chop someone's head clean off with it one day if you're _surprised_ enough."

Just as Allen was about to defend herself, figures began to emerge from the Maze at all four openings. The small group of runners had returned which meant it was nearly time for Greenie to arrive. Allen slung the axe over her shoulder, comfortable with the weight and size of it, and watched as Greg jogged over to them with Minho hobbling next to him. An uncommon site with such a well-practiced runner.

"See you finally finished the barn," Minho nodded towards the building, "build an extra pen for yourself, Gally?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Greg shook his head with a small entertained smile, "you guys sun bathe all day or what?"

"Organized I bit in the early morning, been working on the barn for most of the day. Just started choppin' wood for tonight. 'Suspect we'll be staying up late again with the new kid." Allen nodded in agreement with Gally's statement.

"Sure George will want a tour. Looks nice." Greg looked over his shoulder at the barn, admiring the work, then looked to Allen. "Minho's ankle got caught up in a vine while we were runnin' today, mind looking at it?"

He dropped his axe and motioned for Minho to take a seat on the ground. Gally and Greg watched with half an interest until George and Alby came over and asked if everything was alright. While Greg explained what happened on that day's run, Allen pulled off Minho's shoe.

The ankle was purpled and swollen. Minho's hiss in discomfort when Allen touched the area signaled that it was tender. He grabbed the bottom of the foot and rolled the ankle this way and that, waiting for Minho to show any signs of extreme pain. The bones didn't click or crunch. Minho didn't pull away or flinch too much. There was no bleeding or protruding bone. He'd live to run another day.

Allen gave one nod to Minho who was watching him intently. "I'm good then?"

He held up his hand exposing all five fingers then pointed towards the sun.

Minho groaned. "Is this shank telling me I can't run for five days?"

George reached down and smacked Minho on the back of the head, "if Al' says you're staying off your feet- you're staying off your feet. Ain't none of us know how to treat anything here besides Al', and you breakin' your shucking foot will put you out longer. You're on Glade duty for the next five days."

The runner rolled his eyes in protest then dramatically laid back on the grass – one foot sticking out straight and arms spread out in each direction. "I hate Glade duty."

Ignoring the comment, George turned to the rest of the group. "You two have a productive day then?"

Gally smiled, ready to show off the finished barn. He hadn't allowed anyone in it until it was complete and now that it was done Gally was basically bursting at the seams to show people. "We were! I finished the last side of the barn this afternoon, if you'd like to take a look. We can start corralling the chickens and sheep that we have in there tomorrow."

Trying to be a supportive leader, George extended an arm out towards the barn motion for Gally to lead the way. He knew the boy was a good builder and that it was what he wanted to do, but George never found too much interest in wood and how things were put together. The distinct memory of living under a few sheets of fabric propped up by a couple sticks his first month here worked just fine for him. But still – Gally had a talent, one of value, and that shouldn't be discouraged. "Let's see what we can get done before the Box arrives. After you."

Alby tailed the two Gladers like a body guard, leaving Greg and Allen in charge of Minho.

Greg gave a light chuckle as he glanced down at his helpless friend. "Come on Minho, it's not that bad. Think of it as a Vacation."

"A vacation with a mute and Gally- no offense Al'." Minho lifted his head just a little to look at Allen when he gave his apology.

He shrugged at both the statement and apology.

"You'll be able to sleep all day. You're always bitchin' about bein' tired while we're runnin' anyways."

"Yeah, but come on. All the action is out there! Besides, you'd get shuckin lost without me."

Greg rolled his eyes, "would not."

"Would too! Did he tell you about yesterday, Al?" Minho trying to bring evidence of Greg's poor navigation skills brought light to his eyes. "Your brother was tryin' to take a leak and got lost from just turnin' a corner! One second the shank was there, next thing I know he's three walls over hollerin' for me."

Allen laughed. Greg punched him in the shoulder and glared.

"Not as bad as the time -,"

Before Greg could finish an astonishing loud alarm started to ring throughout the Glade. It scared the twins. Allen flinched down, as if something would be thrown at his head, and Greg moved to cover his brother from danger. Minho remained on the ground only slightly annoyed by the volume.

"Better get to the opening," he said hoisting himself off the ground. "Newbie will be here in a minute." The twins slowly relaxed, realizing they were not in danger. Minho raised an eyebrow and tried to think of something witty to say but fell short. There was nothing amusing about having someone who was willing to stand in front of danger for you.

Allen and Greg hung close to Minho all the way to the box where Alby, George, and Gally were already standing.

George had a huge smile of excitement on his face – the very same one he had when the twins arrived – like a kid on Christmas morning or a lonely child being granted more friends. He stood with his toes on the edge of the grated gate looking down eagerly. Alby stood close behind George while Gally stationed himself behind Allen giving Minho and Greg some space to talk klunk about the new kid.

When the cage crashed to the surface George and Alby wasted no time opening the lid. Allen watched on in mild interest. The same motions must have been played out when he and Greg arrived. George jumped down – just like he had with the twins – and began to overwhelm whatever unfortunate soul was at the bottom of the cage.

The group of Gladers edged closer to get a better look. A subconscious small bubble of hope that it might be another girl popped when Allen looked down. Inside the box was a boy. Thin, pale, and tousled blond hair to match. He stood defiantly in the corner facing outward towards George with his fists clenched and jaw tight. It took the boys only a second to realize that George stood with his hands in the air surrendering instead of welcoming because the Greenie had managed to arm himself with some sort of broken metal. He blonde held on to it so tight the sharp edge bit into his hand and small drops of blood were falling to the floor.

Alby jumped down to assist George, but the motion only gave the kid the opportunity to act. Still clutching the weapon in one hand he moved up the side of the box quickly and with little effort – bouncing off of piled boxes, pulling himself up on the lip of the Glade, and throwing himself out into the grass. He wasted no time. The Greenie took only half a second to turn and point the weapon at the Gladers standing there. Gally pressed in behind Allen, laying an overtly protective hand on her shoulder while Greg managed to shove both himself and Minho in front of Allen. She was protected on all fronts and the new boy picked up on it. He squinted his eyes in speculation, raising the weapon ever more directly at the small group.

It was the sound of Alby and George pulling themselves out of the box that snapped the Greenie out of his thoughts. He counted – 6 to 1. The blonde boy didn't stand a chance. He turned and ran in the opposite direction with a speed that even Minho would find difficult to match.

The doors to the maze were closed however, so there was nowhere to truly run. For a split second Allen was worried that they'd have to stay up all night and look for the new kid, but as karma has it, the boy tripped suddenly and smashed, face first, in to the ground.

* * *

 **Let me know what you thought of this chapter!**

 **Alison**


	7. Chapter 7

Sleep was hard to come by that night because the Glade was full of noise. As she lay in her hammock, swinging lightly back and forth, she felt her bones ache and her skin itch and her stomach tighten in protest for food. To any normal person all of this internal pain would make them run to a doctor but she couldn't. Not here. Not with who they were. Not with who surrounded them. They had convinced themselves that all she needed was a shower and a large plate of food – which were both easily available and ready to use. Allen knew the remedy to her problems, or so they thought. It was an easy fix. One she could do at any time. But they didn't want to fix their problems right now. Her bones ached because they worked too hard. Her skin itched because they never showered. Her stomach tightened because they never ate. They did it all for a reason – to work a manly job allowed them to not look weak, to smell kept others from getting too close, and not eating, well, not eating kept the _parts they didn't want to get bigger_ from getting bigger.

As the light in the glade started to change from black to a grey she sighed and let Allen take over.

He rolled out of the hammock and walked straight out of the woods to the center of the Glade where boys had thrown themselves on top blankets in the grass and slept. If he didn't know better, Allen would say that all the Gladers had died in battle last night and lay where they fell. Their sleeping bodies thrown around in chaos. **_What a shame that would be,_** he thought sarcastically.

Embers clinging to life smoked in the fire pit. He moved with confidence and ease to rekindle the flame. Allen noticed that Gally and Newt had fallen asleep close together – their backs facing each other – most likely too tired to move after a long night of discussing the fate of the Glade.

He found a medium sized stone and threw it at Newt. Allen would have preferred to kick him in the shin, but it didn't seem appropriate right now. When The Blonde didn't stir, he threw another, and by the fourth stone Newt finally rolled over and woke up. He made eye contact with Allen, who nodded towards the Maze doors in silence and then stood from his crouched position by the fire and walked towards the wall alone. Newt woke Gally then, who glowered but got up regardless. Together the two woke the rest of the Gladers and met up with Allen where he stood firmly in place with crossed arms waiting for the doors to open.

Newt came up on Allen's right and Gally on his left as the rest of the Gladers crowded behind the last three original boys. "You think they're gonna be there?" A sad voice asked quietly. Allen found Chuck standing beside Newt looking up at them with big doughy eyes. Her heart dropped and a maternal instinct to hold the boy surged through his body.

None of them could answer and instead waited in silence until the doors started to grind open.

As the doors started to move, boys craned their necks to look inside the Maze. A cold dead rush of air washed into the Glade. No one stood waiting for them – not even Minho. The hall was empty. Allen pursed his lips trying to figure out what this meant for their future here.

Gally shifted next to him, ready to turn his back on the lost boys, when a dark clump rounded the farthest corner. Allen's stomach jumped into his throat as they watched three boys struggle towards the exit. Thomas and Minho, beaten and worn after a long night, supported the unconscious body of Alby. His mouth hung open just slightly unsure if he should say anything – unsure if it was real.

"There!" Someone yelled for Allen. "Look!"

All the boys pressed in. A small cheer broke out, growing louder as their faces became visible. They had lived. All three survived the night.

Minho, Alby, and the Greenie fell into the Glade from exhaustion. Breathing hard Minho kept repeating, "We did it, we did it, we did it." Then firmly smacked Thomas on the shoulder as a sign of approval.

"What the hell happened out there?" Newt asked urgently.

"Grievers." Minho responded. "klunking Griever, man." He swallowed a deep breath. "Shucking thing was alive. Playin' us." Another breath. "It stung Alby." Everyone focused in on the limp body. The news of Alby's fate kicked Allen in to action. Before Minho could open his mouth again, Allen stepped forward and put a hand to Alby's neck – looking for a heartbeat. "That's why we were late for closing."

With great relief, Allen felt Alby's heart beat - slow but strong. He turned to face Minho and gave him a firm nod then two closed fisted hits on top of where Allen's own heart sat. Minho let out a huge sigh, "oh thank god," he said before falling to his knees.

"How did you make it?" Gally pressed, arrogantly assuming that one more question and a few more seconds wouldn't hurt Alby's life.

Minho dropped his gaze and then brought it back up to glance at Thomas, who was hunched over with his head hung low trying to catch his breath. "The Greenie saved us."

An immediate silence fell on the group as everyone, even Allen, stopped what they were doing and focused their attention on Thomas. Humbly the Greenie kept his head down, not acknowledging the attention. "We wouldn't be alive without Thomas," Minho paused, intensifying the moment. "He killed one. He killed a shucking Griever."

Everyone stood dumbfounded by the information. A full minute passed before Newt took control. "Alright, everyone get lost, good that? All the Keepers meet me in the Homestead. Clint, Jeff, take Alby and these two slint-heads up to the infirmary so Allen can take a look at 'em-,"

"Allen?" Clint responded quickly.

Newt shot him a dirty look, "that's what I said, isn't it?"

"What's that shank gonna do that I-,"

 _"I said, Allen."_

Clint reddened with anger. He elbowed Jeff in the ribs to move. They both managed to _accidently_ hit Allen in the shoulders and out of the way as they pulled Alby up off the ground and started towards the infirmary on the second floor of the homestead. "Minho, Thomas," Newt barked, "you follow them. I want Allen checkin' you out too. Make sure you're ok."

Minho hit Thomas on the back again and led him away from the group. "Don't let them leave until you're sure they're ok, then come down and join the gathering." Newt gave his last order to Allen as he walked behind Minho and the Greenie. He barely turned his head towards Newt to acknowledge the command.

Allen was a shocked when he came into the infirmary. He hadn't been up here since Gally had gone through his Changing and the entire place had been moved around. On top of that, there was a girl laying on one of the three beds. Allen came to a complete stop when his eyes fell on her. He had forgotten – completely and totally forgotten about her. Her dark brown curls and soft complexion seemed to glow in such a dreary place. Resentment lashed out bitterly in Allen's chest.

"What? You ain't never seen a shucking girl before Al'?" Jeff hissed as he and Clint laid Alby down on a second bed.

 ** _The exact opposite, actually._** He glared at the Medjacks. "Serum," Allen demanded. Hearing him speak in a smaller room with less people made it sound more threatening than a joke. Allen had long been surpassed in height and weight by most of the Gladers by now, but it seemed to be forgotten by most how intense Allen could be.

Clint stepped forward. "Shove it, Slint-head, you're not in charge of us." He said, defiance making his voice quiver. "Newt said you're gonna fix everyone so you shucking do it."

Allen narrowed his eyes. Clint tried to swallow the lump in his throat but refused to back down. "Serum." Allen said lower. Darker. More poisonous than angry.

"Just tell him where it is." Minho gave his own command.

Jeff crinkled his nose not liking how murderous Allen's eyes had gotten. "Here." He reached in to the cabinet and pulled out a syringe filled with sticky plum colored liquid. Jeff threw it at Allen, half hoping he would miss the object and let it break on the floor but, when Allen caught it with ease without breaking eye contact with Clint – a realization of just how dangerous Allen could be dawned on him.

Tearing his eyes away from Clint, Allen moved over to Alby. A grey puss had started to leak through Alby's shirt, staining it a horrid dark putrid yellow color. Carefully Allen lifted up his shirt to find where Alby was stung.

Right above the boy's hip sat a godawful wound. Having been stung and then untreated for nearly 12 hours had allowed the infection to spread far beyond anything Allen had seen before. Jet black veins branched out across Ably's abdomen and chest, even down into his groin and legs. The image of Gally being stung years ago took over Allen's eye-site and struck fear into his heart. His hands began to shake. **_Stop_** , he tried to shake the memory. The stench of iron and Alby's decaying flesh penetrated Allen's foul body odor and stung his nose. The smell triggered the memory of George's torso cut clean in half and blood pooling out around him. ** _STOP,_** he tried to command again. Allen took a deep breath and tried to focus on the living boy in front of him. He injected Alby with the serum by putting the needle directly in to the heart of the infection. Allen took a minute to look at the wound. Being out all night hadn't done any favors for the infection, but in all Alby seemed to still be alive and willing to fight for another breath. Grabbing a nearby cloth and damping it in a pitcher of water that sat on the counter, Allen diligently worked over Alby– cleaning off puss and pushing more of it out of the wound. Large clumps of moldy green and grey infection, like sour milk, spilled to the floor from Alby's side. **_Brain matter,_** the thought came naturally to Allen. **_It looks just like Greg's brain splattered on the floor of the Maze._** Unnoticed by Minho, Thomas, Clint or Jeff, Allen paused for a brief second and closed her eyes trying push back down the memory.

It took a full half hour before Allen was satisfied with the work he'd done. When he turned to face the room he was half surprised to see other people still standing there. Allen had been mentally on a different planet for a moment. The snap back to reality was dizzying.

Allen made eye contact with Minho and nodded towards the bed.

"You first, Greenie." Minho motioned for Thomas to sit on the last remaining bed while he stood next to him waiting patiently to translate Allen's archaic sign language.

Thomas was probably 16 or 17, 18 at the oldest. His wide shoulder and pointed features gave him a rather distinct look of manhood even at such a young age. The way he held himself was different. His eyes were dark and hidden under thick brows. Allen came to the conclusion rather quickly that Thomas was smart. Like, _really smart._

Allen pinched his own forearm then tapped his head with his pointer-finger.

"Do you feel any pain?" Minho asked Thomas.

The expression on Greenie's face was one that Allen was not used to here in the Glade. Thomas was trying not to judge Allen - the way he looked, or his lack of speech. "Just my shoulder, fell from pretty high at one point."

More willing than usual to touch a stranger, Allen reached out and put one hand on Thomas' chest with the other on his shoulder blade and began to heavily massage the area to feel out any broken bones, torn muscles, or internal bleeding. He watched Thomas' expression and body language. Nothing indicated that anything too severe had happened. Allen checked the rest of him over. Poking at the Greenie's ribs, listening to him breathe, having him follow a finger with his eyes, reflexes in the knees and elbows – he might be bruised but everything was where it belonged. Lastly, Allen put a gentle hand to Thomas's neck and started to count his heart beat. It was racing. Thumping like he had just sprinted 500 yards. Even if he had just survived the Maze, the Greenie's heart should have slowed by now.

Allen dropped his hand from Thomas' neck and looked at the boy with concern. It was only then that he realized Thomas wasn't looking back at him but rather behind him – at the sleeping girl.

He rolled his eyes and waved for Minho to sit down next. "He's alright, Al'?"

Allen gave a nod, two fist bump to his chest, then pinched his arm and tapped his head again.

"Nothin' really hurts. Hungry more than anythin'." Minho mumbled.

He ran over the same protocol with Minho and realized that Minho's body was one that he was familiar with and had missed examining. There had been countless times when Minho had sprained his ankle in the Maze or fallen and scratched himself just a little too deep. It felt like old times. A time before everything went to klunk.

Allen took a deep breath after checking Minho's pulse.

"Good?"

He nodded. Two thumps to the chest.

"Alby ok to be left for a bit while we go to the gathering?"

Allen turned to watch Alby's chest rise and fall in an even pattern for a moment then turned back to Minho and gave yet another two hits to his chest.

"Come on Greenie," Minho said, "Newt will want you there too. Don't worry, your girlfriend won't go anywhere."

Thomas blushed and, invisible under the layers of dirt on his face, so did Allen. **_Girlfriend,_** She and Allen scoffed in a new emotion of envy.

Clint and Jeff wasted no time shuffling out the door leading the other three out of the infirmary and to the ground floor of the homestead where the rest of the Keepers, and some other important Gladers, had all gathered.

The room went silent when they walked in. Everyone turned to watch as Minho and Thomas made their way to the front and Clint and Jeff found their seats. No one noticed Allen clinging to the shadows – except Zart who eyed him with a small suspicion and twisted feeling in his chest.

"Alby gonna to be alright, Minho?"

Allen clenched his jaw. Why would Newt ask him to help Alby only to ignore him when he had questions about Alby?

Minho muttered a quick positive response. "Good that. Now we have to discuss what happened last night. So Minho, if you'd be so kind and start sharin' your little story with us."

Minho stood and began to analytically tell the group about what happened the previous night. "Like I said. Alby went out with me yesterday because I said I saw a dead Griever and we wanted to check it out again. We went out, found the shucking thing, and when Alby got close enough to kick it the piece of klunk jumped up and stabbed him in the side before running off. I swear it was waitin' for us." He took a deep breath and sighed, "So I tried my hardest to get him back but he kept getting' worse and worse until he couldn't run anymore. I had to stop a lot." There was shame in his voice, like he had failed horribly. "I knew we weren't gonna make it, but I tried anyways. Then when the doors closed I panicked." Everyone in the room perked up while Minho hung his head in guilt. "I told Thomas-," Minho shook his head, "I told Thomas we were dead and I ran for it. I left him and Alby and I just ran."

An audible shock went through the crowd. Allen took a small step out of the shadows wanting so badly to be able to go up and put a comforting hand on Minho's back.

"Greenie found me later when he was running from a Griever. Snapped me out of it. We had a Griever on us and we were runnin- one of the walls was starting to move so we dodged behind it but Thomas-" Minho raised his head to glance over at the Newbie again, "-Thomas waited for it and then ran at the last minute. The shuckin' thing got squished right there in the wall." A few murmurs broke out as Gladers started to discuss the story but before a full blown debate could be had, Minho said one last thing – "Alby and I'd be dead if Thomas hadn't saved us."

That made the whole room erupt into conversation. Newt allowed it for a minute until he decided it was time to hear what Thomas had to say. "Alright, alright! Slim it, would ya'!" Newt hollered at the group. Gally straightened with authority, waiting patiently for the moment that he could jump in and throw some of his own words around. "Thomas," Newt addressed the boy to stand, "your turn."

The Greenie stood up from his spot next to Minho and scratched the back of his head, a little unsure just how much trouble he was actually in. "We were all standing there and saw them. I just couldn't **_not_** help. So I ran in. I slung Alby up on a wall to keep him out of the way of Grievers and started running myself." He shrugged, "found Minho later on and we got chased. Like Minho said – one of the Griever's got trapped."

The shorter version of the story didn't answer any questions but made two things very apparent; Alby would have most definitely died if it had just been Minho in the Maze with him and Minho would have most definitely died if he had been left to run all night alone. They would both be dead if it wasn't for Thomas.

Gally stood up then ready for his turn at control. "So he admits it!" Little bits of spit flew out with the accusation. "He ran out in to the Glade when he knows he shouldn't have. Even said it himself, the rest of us were standing there – _knowing the rules_ – and he chose to break them. What kind of example would we set?" He turned to the group and then to Newt. "Next thing you know we'll have Greenie's runnin' in to the Maze to save a shuckin' chicken or some klunk because they wanna be a hero. Banish him. He broke a rule so we have to banish him."

Only Gally's builders murmured in agreeance with him, everyone else kept a tight lip.

"Let's make this easy then, shall we?" Newt stood tall in front of everyone but was obviously peeved at Gally. "Minho it's safe to say what you're voting for so, Frypan, Keeper of the Cooks, what do you say?"

Frypan got up out of his seat and stuck his hands into the dirty pockets of his apron. "Greenie was stupid, I'll agree with that Gally, but I ain't banishing him for savin' lives. I think he should stay."

Allen was impressed with Frypan. He'd opted out to vote in the last banishment, and even in the last one before that if he remembered correctly, but had made up his mind for this one.

Newt nodded as a few flecks of anger popped up on Gally's cheeks. "Clint, Keeper of the Medjacks,"

"I appreciate what you've done Greenie," Clint said as he rose to his feet. Thomas still stood next to Minho, facing each one of his prosecutors head on. "But I agree with Gally. Can't be havin' just anyone runnin' in to the Maze. My job is to keep people livin' not supporting their death."

Gally gave a militaristic approval nod, feeling more confident that he would win this battle. "Zart, Keeper of the Track-hoes, do you agree?"

Zart joined the small group of boys already standing, "I don't." The softness in his voice made it sound almost like he was apologizing at the same time. "I'm with Frypan, don't banish him."

"I'm with you Gally," Winston nearly jumped from his chair. Allen grimaced just slightly at the site of him. Aged blood dried into his clothes made him look appalling. "Banish him. Thomas over stepped."

"Same!" Fred, a chunky and easily impressionable boy popped up from the crowd. Keeper of the Sloppers had joined the rally.

Newt pursed his lips, "well I'm against banning Thomas and everyone know's bloody well that you're for it, so we got ourselves a tie."

Allen almost smiled as the atmosphere in the room turned thick with tension. The excitement was something they hadn't seen in years. "What about Allen?"

The words at first didn't register with him. He thought maybe it was a cricket or some sort of creak in the old homestead. But as the room shifted to face him and both Newt and Gally's eyes locked in on Allen, he realized that it hadn't been a cricket – it had been Minho.

"Allen's not a shucking Keeper anymore." Gally said firmly. "Gave up his klunking title forever ago. It's a tie which means we -,"

"If he ain't a Keeper why did Alby ask him to vote in the last banishment?" The retaliation from Zart almost made Allen puke.

"Fine," Gally hissed. "Allen, you votin' to banish the Greenie?"

All eyes were set on Allen – the dirty, decaying, mute in the corner. Some Glader's had encouraging gazes. _You're alright,_ some of them said _make the right choice._ Others weren't so pleasant. He could feel Gally murdering him from where he stood in his mind, bullying Allen with a glare to pick banishment. Of all faces to look back at though, Allen found himself staring at Thomas.

He shook his head – **No.**

 **"** Oh, what do you know! What are you Keepers of anyways, the klunking dirt?"

And with Gally's dismissal the room turned back towards the center and forgot that Allen existed.

* * *

 **B.T.**

When he took himself out, George and Alby had no problem going up to and rolling the limp body over. The weapon the new kid held on to had been fashioned out of the metal bindings on one of the crate corners. "Smart," is what Alby called it. His hand had been sliced clean open by the sharp edge and continued to bleed even after the boy had been knocked out. After inspecting him one more time for weapons, the Gladers had felt confident enough to move him.

Alby, George, Minho and Gally each took a limb while Allen supported the boy's neck and head. Greg had lead the way, opening doors and moving stuff out of the way for easy transport. Together the five moved the new kid from the field to the homestead and laid him down on one of the beds.

No one knew exactly what to do. Not even Allen. Head trauma was not something he had brushed up on in his first month here and he was worried about the possibility of a brain bleed or aneurism. Course, if it was an aneurism, he'd be dead by now and if he had a brain bleed he would have probably started to seize. Allen had chewed on his bottom lip for a solid minute before he took action.

He started with the hand because that was one thing Allen knew how to fix. It was cleaned with alcohol, inspected, and sewed back together with care while the rest of the group began to discuss what to do about the new kid.

"Came out like a fire cracker, didn't he?" Alby chuckled, more impressed by the new kid than anyone else.

George gave a friendly laugh and nod, trying to lighten the situation. "Scared the klunk out of me. I was about to hug him like I did you two," he made eye contact with Greg. "Glad I didn't. Saw the shucking point just in time."

Alby held on to the piece of crate binding and brought it up to inspect one more time. "Box must've already been falling apart. Can't imagine it would have been easy to get off if all of the nails holding it to the corner had been there. Have to hand it to him-," Alby paused for a moment. "He's the only one that has come up on the defense so far, can't blame him really."

George agreed and so did Minho. Greg was indifferent and Allen wasn't paying any attention. Gally on the other hand scoffed. "The shank isn't right in the head, George. All of us have been scared getting here, sure, but who has the natural instinct is it to come out with a knife ready to hurt people he doesn't know?" He shook his head, confirming his beliefs. "I don't like him."

The opinion seemed to be mutually shared as well, but no one outwardly agreed with Gally. So far the only person who wasn't too put-off by the new kid was Alby. "You'll clean him up then, Al?" he said, still impressed with the weapon and itching to check out how the Greenie pried it off the box.

Allen wove a needle through the soft skin of the new boy, tying it back together one stitch at a time. He sniffed, giving himself a minute to think about the answer. He nodded.

Alby turned back to George. "Let's go see where he got this. Maybe we could learn somethin' from him."

It became obvious with that statement that Alby wasn't as interested in the boys health as he was learning what the boy possibly knew about defensive tactics and protection. If Alby could be anything, Gally and Allen always assumed it would be a General or Solider. He was always looking for ways to better protect the group. Better weapons. Better rules. Better survival skills.

George gave the newbie one last look then parted with Alby. Like with Gally, George knew when to support his comrade's passions or skills. Alby's interest in bettering their defense wasn't something that should be discouraged.

"I'll go too," Minho said, not particularly interested in watching the kid get sewed back together.

"Gally you too," George called over his shoulder, "we could use your help unloading the box. I got an idea for next month too," he said passively, "Alby and I were talkin' about it while we were runnin' today and I think it might be our ticket out of here. Gotta figure out just how deep that shucking hole goes first though. Maybe the way we come in is the way we get out." He announced to the group. "After you can show me the rest of the barn," he said going back to Gally.

Reluctantly Gally left the room. He would have argued to stay, but with Greg there, Gally had no right to standing guard of Allen. "I'll see you in a bit, Al'."

He gave a small side nod, acknowledging his departure.

By the time the boys had filed out of the room Allen had finished stitching the kid up and stood up, still unsure how to approach the head injury.

Greg stepped out the room really fast to make sure the rest of the group had left and then came back to Allen, "What are you thinking?"

Allen shook her head, completely lost. "Could be a concussion," she whispered. Bending down to get a better look, Al' put two fingers down on the boys forehead and pressed lightly feeling for any fractures. "Don't think he hurt himself too bad, just knocked himself out." She looked back at her brother, "I hope. Head injuries aren't something to mess around with. I'll sew his forehead up too, but that's all I really know how to do."

"Alright," taking a deep breath he seemed to relax. "You good here alone?"

Allen nodded cleaning off the needle with some alcohol.

"K. I'll be down helping George. Holler if you need anything, good that? And when you're done you come down 'n find me. We don't know this kid and I'm sidin' with Gally. So far not a big fan of 'im."

"Good that," she had said softly.

Even before Greg physically left the room, Allen was already hard at work in her own little world. Threading the needle with steady hands, she pulled a chair next to the boys head and started in with gentle handles. Pinching the skin together with one hand while the other pushed the needle in and out of the skin. It wasn't a large cut but it was bleeding like a stuffed pig. The white thread quickly dyed itself red, blending in with the wound.

He started to mutter in his sleep. Utter nonsense about bunkers and a virus – like a bad nightmare slipping out from his subconscious. Allen knotted and cut the string as she listened to the incoherent voice. He sounded foreign, but nice. Quiet, like her. Taking a cloth and damping it, Allen started to clean off the blood on his hand. He hand long fingers and wide knuckles. Maybe he would be the Glade's new butcher, at least Allen hoped so, she hated that job, or maybe he knew how to cook well or build like Gally. **But,** Allen reminded them, **he can run. We saw him runnin' before he tripped. He'll be another runner.**

Allen dabbed a little too close to the cut and must have hit just the right nerve because the Greenie twitched in reflex. She stopped and looked up just in time to see the boys eyes start to open in confusion.

 **Shit.** They didn't think he would wake up this soon.

She stood up quickly and put some distance between them. Greenie grunted in discomfort and slowly woke the rest of his body up. Lifting one hand to his forehead he felt the welt that had been left behind by the rock and the stiches there. "You lot trip me then?"

 ** _Shit._** They didn't think he would ask questions either.

Greenie propped himself up on his elbows and looked to Allen with groggy eyes. "Or did I trip myself? Can't really remember." Just as he finished his sentence, the blond boy hunched over the side of the table and puked what little liquid sat in his stomach.

Ignoring all dangers, Allen closed the gap between them now and pushed the new kid back down to the table and grabbed a bucket from the corner. He fought her for a moment, before leaning over again and barely getting his vomit in the bucket.

"Get off-," the boy argued.

Allen put her full weight into holding the boy down by the shoulders until he stopped squirming. Exhausted, dazed, and sporting the signs of a concussion, he finally stopped and looked up at her.

"What happened, then?"

She let go of him and tried to think of a plan. Getting the rest of the Gladers was the obvious, but Allen felt uneasy leaving the boy by myself - he could leave and hide, he could try to stand and collapse, he could still seize and choke on his own tongue.

Touching his forehead to feel out the wound, the blonde said "What about this place? Where am I?"

She could strap him down or maybe bring him with to get Greg and the others. Allen looked around for some rope, taking her eyes off for the newbie for a minute forgetting his questions entirely.

"What about a name, you got one of those?"

Allen stopped and looked over to see him staring back at her. He had big, dark brown eyes that the blood would accent nicely if it wasn't so morbid to think. She turned away from him and kept looking for something – _anything._ Even something she could stick outside the window and bang on the side of the homestead to get her brothers attention.

"Great," she heard the boy mutter, "stuck here with psychos and a mute."

 ** _Mute._** Allen thought about the word. It was only something Minho called them. It seemed more insulting coming from this kid ** _._**

"Allen." Her voice was low but not garbled like it should be. For one reason or another, they didn't particularly care right now. The boy would most likely not remember the name in a few days anyways because of his head injury.

He hadn't looked away from Allen even though she had. The Greenie was trying to piece together his own memories – trying to answer questions he hadn't quite formed yet. Something about watching the boy move around the room opening drawers and cabinets filled with miscellaneous supplies allowed his mind to go blank and let things bubble to the surface. It wasn't much that came to him. Just two things.

"Newt." He said, introducing himself with the first piece of information he remembered. The second was more of a feeling. As he watched Allen walk around the room he couldn't help but feel like he was missing someone that was about the same height and weight as Allen. A longing ached in his chest for this faceless, nameless person.

She paused and stopped her search. The expression painted on Newts face was that of sadness and confusion. Gally had mentioned how scared he was when he first arrived in the Glade, something that Allen would never have to face because she had Greg, which made her realize that what Newt needed right now wasn't to be strapped down or lugged through the Glade to face the others but a little bit of attention and kindness instead. Allen let out a short breath and picked up her damp rag again.

"You tripped and smacked your head on a rock," Allen's voice was slow and maternal. "Cut your hand on an edge." She extended out her hand, asking permission to take his.

Newt hesitated, but sensing no real danger lifted it slowly and placed it softly palm-side up in Allen's.

"Knocked yourself out. I've been cleaning you up."

It took him a long moment to relax and during the time the two remained quiet. Allen finished cleaning his hand then rang the rag out over the bucket of water. From a counter she grabbed a tube of ointment and blotted it onto the cut to prevent infection.

Newt winced at the sting, "You never said where we are."

Allen shrugged, "we call it the Glade." Another silence fell while she wrapped his hand in gauze. "I'm going to clean your head." She said softly, almost to her natural voice, as she leaned in.

He pulled away from her, "you talk funny, you know that?"

She raised an eyebrow and put a heavy hand down on his shoulder to keep Newt still. "So do you."

* * *

 **Good evening :)  
**

 **My summer class for graduate school ended on Wednesday so I was finally able to crank out another chapter.**

 **Three things:**

 **1) Someone asked about Allen's period, since biologically she/they are still very much a female. To answer this simply - yes, you are correct. The stress, lack of food/sleep and trauma of being in the Glade stopped Allen from having her menstrual cycle. In the first paragraph of this chapter I mentioned that just in case anyone else was curious. Allen believes that by not eating she/they are actively keeping themselves from growing larger breasts/hips. Keep in mind that her chest-bonds are still in place here and even though her period hasn't technically started some parts have/are still forming.**

 **2) There are parts of this story that were not apart of my original plot and plots to the original story that are not apart of this one! Some story lines I didn't like, some things were confusing, and somethings were just dropped and never brought up again. I tried to write those things out, fix plot holes, and bring together better character development in this re-write. Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this re-write as much as the original. It means a lot to me that you guys are sticking around!**

 **3) I love your comments and questions! It reminds me to update and to keep writing. So, please don't be afraid to ask any questions or make any speculations. I loveeeee hearing theories - especially from people reading this for the first time!**

 **Things are very clearly starting to pick up in this chapter. The original story turned out to be 12 chapters, this one will probably be 13/14 - so we're half way through! The next chapter is kind of violent, please prepare yourselves for that.**

 **Let me know what you think! See you hopefully Thursday/Friday**

 **Alison**


	8. Chapter 8

A sigh escaped from Allen's lips. Staring at the back of boy's heads as they argued could only hold your attention for so long. They had been going back and forth since Allen gave his non-banishment opinion and were getting nowhere. He scratched the back of his head releasing some large flakes of dandruff and grime from his skull then peeled away from the door frame and left the gathering. He had wood to chop.

The Glades cache was running dangerously low and if he planned to get back into the rhythm of things, Allen would need to pick up on his duties. In the trees he located his axe and put one end of a large log onto his shoulder so he could drag it towards the clearing and look over the Glade like he always did. He started from the center of a ten foot long log, cutting it into two five foot pieces. Then cut each of those in half. He kept cutting pieces in half until they were roughly the length of his forearm. Allen threw half of them into a pile at the base of an old tree where his wood pile usually stacked up to three feet. With the rest he cut them into smaller pieces, splinters and kindling to start fires. Allen ignored the blisters on his hand and went back into the Deadheads to retrieve another trunk and larger branches. He worked for hours, stopping occasionally to wipe his brow or watch the Glade.

It was noon when the gathering finally let out. Keepers and their right-hand men evacuated the homestead like ants filing out of hill. Allen watched as the last group of people left the building – Gally and a few of his boys leading Thomas, closely followed by Newt, Minho, and Chuck towards the Slammers. Gally got too much enjoyment out of the act of opening the Slammer door, shoving the Greenie in, and locking it shut. Allen couldn't make out what he was telling Thomas or Newt but based off of the vein popping in his temple, it could be assumed that Gally was less than happy.

Allen shook his head, glad that the matter was over and handled. The Glade could go back to normal once Alby woke up and that girl was handled. Taking a deep breath Allen got another trunk and started to cut it in half. He had been slacking on his chores and if anyone wanted to be warm tonight, he'd have to keep chopping.

So that's what he did. He kept chopping until the light started to dim. The early morning was a flurry of chaos, making the late morning and afternoon mentally exhausting. Cutting wood with a dull axe for the second half of the day made Allen want to collapse. Sleep had been scarce, food little to none, but something pushed him forward – _just keeping moving. Just keep going._

Allen flung his axe and made it stick perfectly into the trunk of a nearby tree with little effort or consideration, like the action was an innate reflex. His hands landed on his hips taking a moment to breath before collecting a bundle of wood and carrying it to the pit nearest to the sleeping quarters. A few trips had to be done before he felt confident that the stack would last the night. Before long a small flame licked to life on top of cold ashes. He watched the fire for a moment then retreated one last time to get his axe and a sharpening stone. Allen came back to the pit, took his shoes off, and sat cross legged. Gladers joined him for a few minutes here and there, warming up their feet before bed, but never acknowledged the skeleton of a boy sitting there. He sharpened his axe repeatedly until the blade shined and came to a paper thin edge.

"You alright, Al'?"

Minho's question dragged Allen out from the depths of his thoughts and back into the present. He looked up to Minho and gave an expression of ' _hm?'_

"You look like you're made out of stone, you ok?" Minho asked again stepping further out of the shadows.

Allen nodded, throwing a quick smile at Minho. He returned the gesture and stepped in closer. There was something about Minho tonight. His demeanor was all off. No jokes or friendly quips were waiting on the tip of his tongue. He was sunken. Unsure.

Taking a seat next to Allen, Minho stared into the hot coals. "Sometimes I feel like you're the only one who hasn't changed." He said after a moment. "All this klunk happening around here, it's crazy. But every time I look up I see you standing off watching, like you always have." Minho's gaze held firm to the fire as he spoke, rolling a small stone between his fingers absent mindedly. "Just reminds me how far we've come. What's all happened."

Minho was definitely in a mood. It had happened once before after Greg died. Allen put his axe one the grass next to him and focused in on his friend. He hugged his knees close to his chest and waited for Minho to keep talking. That's all Minho needed. Someone to listen to him.

"When we were out in the Maze, Allen," he paused, choosing his words wisely. "I can't even shucking tell you how scared I was. But then Thomas ran out to us and tried to save Alby and I all night. Kid is either too stupid to realize he's in danger or just – I dunno, really smart or something." Minho tossed the small rock into the fire and picked up another one to play with. "There's something about him, you know?" he turned to see if Allen agreed.

His chin was resting against his knees, but Allen's head managed to give a small nod in support.

Throwing a second rock into the fire Minho continued, "No shank who has ever been here would have done what he did. I owe that Greenie my life."

Silence fell for a couple moments. Both boys staring into the fire, caught up in their own thoughts. Allen often wondered if Minho knew his secret. There was no reason why he would but the possibility was always floating around. He pictured how Minho would react if he just started talking regularly, then took off his bindings and let his body free.

"He asked about you," Minho interrupted his thoughts. "Thomas. Thomas asked about you."

Allen placed his cheek on his knee so he could face Minho, showing interest in the subject.

"Was just askin' Newt about you. Wanted to say thanks for voting for him. He's a good guy. You'd like him."

Allen let out a chuckle then threw his head back towards the homestead, grabbed his chest where invisible boobs sat, and then covered his eyes with both hands. Minho laughed with him at the harmless comment.

"Yeah, Newt and I've tried to talk to him about the girl. It's sad that you barely know him and know that he's obsessed with her. The quicker she wakes up the better."

He shook his head teasingly with a smile painted on his face.

"Either way, he was kind of surprised by you when you were lookin' at him before the gathering. Newt told him to leave you alone, but I suspect he might try and come find you when he gets out. Just a heads up."

Allen gave an appreciative nod and let the conversation drop again, taking a moment to enjoy Minho's company in silence. He knew there were more subjects that Minho wanted to discuss, all he had to do was wait.

Before long he said, "Alby will never be the same, huh? Like Gally."

The idea of Alby turning in to Gally made Allen cringe. But being stung put everyone through hell and back. He didn't respond, not wanting to confirm nor deny Minho's assumptions.

He heaved a sigh, "I think Thomas is going to get us out of here."

Allen rested his cheek on his knees again so he could watch Minho as he spoke. Catching sparks of red from the fire reflected off his dark brown eyes.

"I think he'll be the one to do it, and if he can't then we'll be stuck here forever." Minho looked at Allen very seriously then. "Greg always told me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to him. To make sure you're with me if we found a way out. So if Thomas figures out the Maze, you're comin' with us. No questions."

He rolled his head back to the fire and gave one short nod down.

They sat together for a while longer, watching the fire lick the blacken logs, occasionally throwing a new one in to feed the flame. Boys slept happily in their hammocks behind them, exhausted from a long day of excitement. Allen found himself hoping again that tomorrow would bring back the normal routine. Sleeping from the early morning until late afternoon, then up all night with the shadows.

Minho shifted next to him and began to stand up. "Don't know how you stay up all night. It's creepy. I'm goin' to bed."

"Night," Allen mumbled without looking up.

Minho paused and gave Allen a small smile. Allen had a second softer voice that Minho had only heard once or twice when Greg was around. _Poor kid_ , Minho always thought, _must hurt like hell if he refuses to talk._ He left Allen to sit in his own filth and find the nearest vacant hammock to sleep in.

Night was Allen's favorite time of day. Everything was calm and not a whole lot could go wrong. He debated whether or to check up on Alby or curl up and take a nap next to the fire. A nap would be a bad choice if he wanted to sleep during the day so Allen decided to get up and walk to the homestead and check in on Alby's fever and make sure that he was still breathing

Besides the orange glow coming from the fire and the dimly candle lit windows from the far off homestead, the Glade was dark. The further Allen walked from the fire the more his eyes adjusted. He was comfortable moving around without light. Hardly anything scared him at night these days. Still barefoot, the soles of his feet enjoyed the cool soft grass. The soft snores of boys sleeping in corners, the grass, or hammocks gave a rather comforting grey noise to the Glade. It wasn't until Allen was near the barn on the way to the homestead that he felt a presence behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled up and sent a shiver down their back. Any normal Glader would assume it was a Griever hunting them, but the longer he listened, Allen was able to note that whatever was following them was bi-pedal. He pretended not to hear them and continued on, giving himself some time to figure out how to approach the stalking shadow.

As he arrived at the homestead, Allen placed a hand on the grimy doorframe – pretending to look before sneaking in and creeping up the second level. "Gally," She gasped quickly as fear flooded her veins.

Gally did not slow his stride as the distance closed between them. The look on his face was more than enough to make Allen worry. "Gally-," she said again but this time warningly, putting up a hand between them and stumbling back a few steps. But he pressed on until there was no room between them at all and his hands grasped on to Allen's shoulders aggressively.

He shoved her to the ground. "Who do you think you are, siding with the Greenie?"

Allen winced and let out a small yelp as her tailbone hit the ground hard and rolled on to her side in pain. She should have known the look he had given her during the gathering was more than just a murderous glare. _It was a promise._

"Don't be a baby," Gally hissed at her. He grabbed at her again and dragged her from in front of the homestead to the side where there were less windows and more privacy. "Get up and answer me."

"Screw you." She spit at his feet as she stood back up. Allen backed away a few feet, trying to give herself more room to avoid another blow.

"Slim it." Gally hissed darkly.

Allen clenched her fists, "What do you shucking want, Gally? You punched me in the face the other day for no reason, I haven't talked to me in months and now what – _you want me on your side?"_ Her blood boiled from the constant torment and abuse that she had sustained in the Glade and it was starting to overflow.

Slightly taken aback that she was standing up for herself, Gally stood up straight and rethought his plan of attack. "I want to know why a klunk-head like you decides to start showin' up again. I haven't talked to _you_ in months because _you_ haven't been around. I'm not the one who left, _Allen."_

"Left?!" Allen cracked a sarcastic laugh, "I didn't know we found a way out of this hell hole," she hissed.

Silence fell over the estranged friends. Allen breathed heavily. Something was bubbling to the surface. Years of pent up neglected emotion started to quiver at her lips. **_She_** had so much to say. **_She_** needed a friend. Someone to listen to **_her._** Allen searched desperately for any trace of Gally – _her Gally –_ that might emerge to save the day.

He shook her off. "Why'd you choose Thomas this morning?"

"Because he saved Minho-," Allen relaxed her hands and rolled her shoulder back, hoping her relaxed posture would cause him to relax too.

Gally rolled his eyes, "why didn't you choose me?"

She shook her head in disbelief at how thick he had become. "He saved them, Gally. Newt trusts him-," a fire kicked to life behind Gally's eyes and Allen knew she had chosen the wrong words – _the wrong name._

"Newt?" Venom dripped off the name. "You're still listening to that shuck-face?" He began to vibrate with resentment, and before Allen could brace herself, Gally lunged forward and grabbed her shoulders, spun her, and pinned Allen stomach first against the side of the building.

He pressed his entire body weight against her back, "Do you know how much I've done for you? You don't, do you. Poor little Allen, stuck all alone in the Glade without big brother, thinking the world is against her." His hot breath hit her ear and the smell of rotting teeth encompassed her face. Allen tried to twist out of his grip. "I've done more for you than you'll ever know and you still pick Newt and his shucking Greenie over me."

"You're hurting me, Gally, let go." She told him coldly trying not to show fear.

Giving a wicked smile, he said mockingly, "Oh, am I hurting you little girl?" Gally twisted his grip on her wrist even more. A move that would leave a nasty Indian Burn tomorrow.

Allen's eyes snapped open, anger lashing out. "I said, let go of me." She demanded before freeing one arm and elbowing him in the gut.

Gally released and took a few steps back in surprise of the hit. Allen, just as shocked it had worked, fumbled back a couple strides away from him. She watched as Gally regained his composure.

"Leave me alone!" Allen yelled as loudly as she dared.

Gally spit and lifted up his shirt to see if there was a bruise. As he stalked towards her he said, "you're gonna regret that," and reached for her again.

She took a few more steps back and raised her hand again, trying to shove some distance between them. Not taking her eyes off him, Allen tried to dive and weave out of Gally's reach. She was lighter than he was, but he was better fed. It looked to innocent eyes like a flirtatious game, but Allen was genuinely afraid of what would happen if Gally got a hold of her.

In a panic, Allen looked around to see if there was something she could use to defend herself with, allowing Gally a moment to reach out and grab her wrist. Trying to jerk out of his grasp, Allen lost her footing and fell to the ground with Gally landing on top of her. Her arm scratched the corner of a box on the way down, leaving behind a nasty gash that started to bleed immediately. A rock dug into her back. Yelping in surprise, she kicked her legs furiously trying to buck him off and shoved one free hand against his shoulder. There was no time for plea bargains, Allen needed him off _now._ But, while being light and small had its perks for snooping around at night, it did not have the benefits of trying to get a nearly full-grown male off yourself.

Gally grabbed her stray hand and pinned both of them above her head in the clutch of one of his large hands. Taking his now free hand, Gally gripped her neck and squeeze it just enough for Allen to feel. He sat on her hips and tried to get her to stop squirming.

"Stop." She tried to say through a closing airway.

He leaned in, "you know, I have seen your klunk-face around more in the last week that I have in the last year. Care to explain that, Allen?" All she could do was try and take a rattled breath. "Now I'm not sayin' you didn't have a right to knock Ben out-cold when he was chasin' the Greenie, but that stunt you tried to pull the other day – running into the maze. You would've been dead Allen." Gally pressed his thumb just a little deeper into her windpipe. "You're lucky Zart caught you and not me. What were you gonna do out there? Hm? You've only run it, what, _once_ when Greg died? I would've taught you a lesson right there. I saved you, you know that? I did. Me."

Allen moved her hips and tried to pry him off with off one last time but things were starting to fade fast.

Gally noticed and eased up on the choke hold. Fresh air flooded into her lungs. Allen tried to roll over as she coughed madly, sucking in gulps of air. He didn't budge though and continued to talk over her, one hand firmly placed on her neck. "Then you and your klunk ideas have to go and vote for the shucking Greenie like you owe him something. You don't owe him anything, Allen. Nothin'. Was he the one that took care of you after Greg died? No. How about when you got stuck under a tree trunk, did Thomas save you? Don't think so. And what 'bout the time you were out being a shucking idiot and a Griever was going to sting you. Who jumped in front of it for you? I'll give you a hint – it sure as hell wasn't Newt or Thomas."

Allen coughed once, twice, three more times. "I'm go-going to t-t-to tell-,"

"Who was it Grace?" Gally took one wrist in each hand and leaned in so close that their noses were touching. A fit of sexual tension started build off Gally. "Who jumped in front of that Griever for you?!"

Scared, tears slipped out of her eyes. "Y-you did."

"That's right." He said, "I did. I saved you. So go run and tell your precious _Newt_ whatever you want-," Gally pulled away, landed a quick punch to the side of Allen's face, picked up her head and held it tightly as he brought it up toward his. "But he won't care. He never has." He let go of her allowing her head to hit the ground with a nasty _thump._ Gally stood up and before leaving he looked down at her one last time, said "not like I do," and gave a few swift kicks to her side and back as she rolled into the fetal position.

* * *

 **B.T.**

The blond boy was less than amused with the state of affairs in the Glade. He was even less amused with people.

After cleaning Newt's head Allen had left and to get George. When he reached the group they were near the barn examining Gally's handy work. Greg translated Allen's assessment of the new boy and then George and Allen promptly headed back – not wanting to give Newt too much time to wander off.

When they arrived back at the homestead Newt had managed to stand and support himself enough to poke through a few of the drawers in the room. Allen knew he hadn't found much though because Allen knew for a fact that nothing in the Glade was worth hiding.

The two stopped in the doorway and watched as Newt tried to stand straighter and appear stronger than what he currently was. "Allen says you hit your head. You ok?" George stepped in first, taking lead.

Newt pursed his lips unsure of George and looked to Allen. Surprised, Allen gave a nod of encouragement.

"Fine. I think. Bit dizzy."

George took a step in making Newt step back. "We aren't here to hurt you. I'm sorry if I surprised you by jumping in to the box – usually the kids are too out of it to really be on the defense. You're definitely a first."

Newt kept flicking his eyes between George and Allen, looking to the boy with a soft voice for reassurance.

"My name is George," he said clearing his throat and sticking out a hand.

His eyes landed on George's hand and hovered a minute before glancing back up at Allen. He nodded again in support. Newt clenched his jaw but stepped forward to accept the handshake. "Newt."

George cracked a smile, "Newt? Like the lizard fish thing?"

Allen stifled a laugh just in time to catch Newt pale in a fit of embarrassment.

George's teasing smile held, "Well, Newt, welcome to the Glade. It's not the best, but we're working on it and it'll become your home sooner or later too. Did Allen explain the rules?"

Newt shook his head. "Doesn't talk much, does he?"

"No," George glanced over at Allen to see him standing tall, un-phased by the comment. "Allen's got a bad voice box, he was sick when he was a kid. He's got a twin though, Greg." He turned back to Newt. "Allen's a good kid, just quiet. Why don't you sit and I'll give you a run-down of this place."

Unsteadily, Newt managed to find his way back to the table where he had woken up and leaned against it. "A twin?" He looked over to Allen, who nodded to confirm the information.

"I'll try to make this quick since you look like a shucking ghost and I need to get some stuff ready for a project. We call this the Glade, good that?" George waited a second for Newt to acknowledge him. "We're trapped here." He let that sentence sink in before continuing. "We're in the center of a huge maze and we've been trying to figure it out since the beginning. Alby and I think we figured it out though, so maybe you won't even be here that long. Until then, we really only have one rule here. **Everyone has do their part. We can't have any slackers, good that?** Once you get back on your feet you'll be introduced to the Maze and I'll see if you got what it takes to run with us. If you can't run then you'll stay in the Glade during the day and help Allen and Gally keep things in order."

Newt tried to stomach the information. "A maze? You're joking."

"I wish I was." George crossed his arms, "look outside. See those huge walls? There's about a thousand other ones on the other side making a maze."

"And you haven't found a way out yet?" Newt turned towards the window. The anxiety building on his face was the same that Allen remembered experiencing. "How long have you lot been here!"

"I've been here about six months."

"Six months!?" Newt stood up and swayed on his feet. "I can't stay here for six months, I have –," his face fell. "I have to get back to someone, I think." A wave of sadness fell over him. "Why can't I remember anything?"

George sighed, "None of us can. Just our names. Allen and Greg seem to remember the most out of all of us, but nothing beyond personal information. Do you remember anything besides your name?"

Newt shook his head slowly, the initial sense of urgency disappearing. Allen wondered who it was that Newt felt like he had to get back to.

"That's ok, you're not alone." George relaxed and turned to Allen. "How many days do you think he should rest up for Al'?"

Allen held up ten fingers.

George rolled his head back in a small protest. "Fine, but I want him helping you and Gally out." He turned back to Newt. "You stay here for tonight. Allen will come back and check up on you in a bit. I need him for now. And I mean it – _stay here_. I don't want you wandering around alone on your first couple nights, you still have a lot to learn about this place."

"Can I go too? I can manage." Newt tried to straighten himself again.

Allen shook his head, _no,_ then reached for a clean pitcher of water and a glass. He placed it on the table in front of Newt. "Stay." This voice wasn't the same that Newt had heard before. It was rougher, deeper, and forced. It made him wince in pain for Allen. "Drink."

"We'll be back." George turned to the side to let Allen leave the room first, then followed and closed the door behind him. "He seem alright, Al'?" He asked in a hush tone as the two walked down the steps and out into the Glade.

Allen shrugged and waved his hand halfheartedly above his head.

"What's that mean, is the shank crazy?"

He shook his head, _no_.

"Psycho?"

 _No_.

"A piece of klunk?"

Allen chuckled. _No._

"Greg! Your brother is sayin' the new kid is an alien!" George almost bounded towards the group excited about a new member and the possibility of successfully getting out the Glade.

Greg raised an eyebrow in confusion and watched as Allen shook his head with a smile on his face and raised his hand above his head again and waved it halfheartedly. "He's sayin' the new kid is confused. Anything else, Al'?" Everyone turned to watch Allen sign back to his brother.

He balled his fist and hit his chest twice then raised all ten fingers again.

"Says he'll be alright in a couple days."

Allen walked towards his brother and stood next to him, waiting to be caught up on this brilliant plan to escape. "He seem ok?" Greg whispered down to him. It was the first time that Allen truly realized how much taller Greg had grown since they arrived in the Maze. Nearly a full three inches above her now.

"I think he's frustrated." Allen whispered back when the attention from the Glader's shifted to George and Alby.

"Whys that?"

"He can't remember anything. Made a comment a minute ago about having to find someone."

Gally peered over his shoulder at Allen and Greg whispering back and forth to each other. The twins noticed and quickly stopped talking, assuming that if one person could hear them then so could everyone else.

"- the rope is about 100 feet long. All that's going to happen tomorrow is to see if it reaches the bottom. If it doesn't then we'll have to add to it and try again." George picked up one end of a rope that was as thick as a forearm. "I'll tie myself to one end and you shanks will lower me down. If I tug on it, it means I reached the bottom. It you reach the end and I haven't tugged then start pulling me back up."

Allen looked up to his brother with a small expression of alarm. Sensing his twins panic Greg whispered, "He and Alby think the exit is the same way we come in," without even looking down.

"It'll probably take all day so there won't be any running tomorrow," Alby chimed in. "I'll be the main anchor on the rope with Minho and Greg behind me. Gally you'll be making sure the rope doesn't get knotted and Allen I want you on the edge looking down and listening in case George yells anything."

"We're gonna to practice before the sun runs out, just to make sure you guys and the rope can hold me." George coiled a few feet of rope around his arm and began to tie it around his torso and crotch, making an extremely uncomfortable looking harness. Alby helped him tie a knot right in front of his chest and yanked on it a few times to make sure it was sturdy. "Alright, everyone listen to Alby until I'm back up." George waddled to the edge of the shaft. The gates that were usually there to make sure no one fell in were already pulled back. A cold breeze wafted up from dark hole.

"Alright, we're going to stand a few feet back so we don't get pulled in if something goes wrong. With the three of us holding Greg up, our weight should be more than enough. We're going to wrap the rope around our waist once each to make sure we have control of it. Keep both hands on it at all times and make sure to give yourself enough slack so it doesn't pinch you. We'll probably get some rope burns, but if this works it'll be worth it." Alby wrapped the rope around his hips once, "Minho you go right behind me." Minho stepped forward and let Alby coil the rope around him and show him how to control the length. "Greg you're behind Minho." When Greg stepped up Allen followed for a few steps before stopping next to Gally. The remaining pair watched as Alby set Greg up and made sure the two runners were comfortable. "Gally you're going to make sure the rope doesn't get knotted. Stand by the pile behind Greg and if anything happens the first thing you need to do it give us as much rope as possible so we can get out of the loops. Good that?" Gally gave a short response and took his position. "Allen go stand next to George and listen. I'll be watching you. Keep one hand raised and open. It'll tell us that everything is fine. If things aren't fine, or George wants to come up, close your hand into a fist. If it's an emergency, start hitting the ground and we'll move immediately to pull him up." Allen nodded and stood next to George. Alby took a deep breath and gave one last order, **_"_** ** _do not let your feet get caught in the rope. If anything goes wrong and your foot gets tangled you're going down too."_**

Everyone gave an audible understanding and readied themselves for the test run. Alby gave a quick head nod to George, setting the first step of their plan into motion.

George turned to face the group and gripped the rope line in front of his chest. He took a few steps backward until the soles of his feet were perfectly centered over the lip of the opening. Very slowly he began to walk backwards over the ledge until he was perpendicular to Allen. "Holy klunk, it's cold down here Al'." George chuckled to him. Allen gave a faint smile, acknowledging the comment, then got to his knees and watched as George scaled down the wall with one open hand raised above his head.

"How far we going, Alby?" Minho puffed out, feeling the rope start to tighten around his hips.

"Twenty or so feet. If we can do that then we can go all the way tomorrow."

It was silent from there on out as George was lowered further and further down into darkness. Everyone was working with the utmost care and attention. The danger of trying to pull this off was obvious to each boy. Allen's shoulder began to cramp from keeping his hand raised for so long. It would be a full hour before George reached twenty feet – that's how slow they were going.

"He still good Allen?" Alby grunted.

Allen shook his head without taking his eyes off the dark abyss that had swallowed George. He hadn't heard anything, so that must mean that George was ok – _right?_

"Alright, let's bring him back up!"

Alby shifted his posture and began to pull on the rope instead of letting his slide through his fingers. Minho and Greg followed his lead and began to pull George back up, one inch at a time. Gally made sure the rope came back into a perfect coil while keeping a close eye on Allen as well.

Before long George's silhouette could be seen and then as he reached the top, parts of him came back into the sun light. First his left foot and one hand, then both feet, his stomach and both hands. Within a matter of seconds George came into full view and Allen felt the stress melt off of him. Allen gave their leader a smile and reached down to give George a hand. He took it without hesitation and allowed himself to be pulled out of the hole.

The rope went limp as Minho, Greg and Alby uncoiled themselves. "Well?" Minho said with anticipation, "What'd you see?"

"Nothing." It took Allen a moment to realize that George was panting as if he had just ran a marathon. The panic must have finally set in for him the further down he went. "It was so dark down there. I couldn't even see the bottom, but it felt empty so we'll go down as far as possible tomorrow and see if I can find solid ground."

George and Alby exchanged a glance. "Alright, well-" Alby helped George to his feet and began to untie the knot holding him into the harness. "That was a good practice run. Everyone did what they were supposed to. If we do the same tomorrow everythin' will be fine."

"Let's get some dinner and sleep." George let the rope fall off him. "Allen why don't you go check up on the new kid and see if he's up for coming down stairs to eat with us. The rest of us will cook for a change."

Allen gave one nod up and turned towards the homestead. "Shouldn't someone go with him?" Gally's voice rang out.

Everyone except Minho seemed to consider the comment. "Dude, if you're worried about your boyfriend getting snatched up then just say so."

Gally reddened, "Shove it. That's not what I'm saying. We're sending Al' off to go check up on a kid who tried to slice George open. I'm just saying someone should go with him."

"I don't know, you seem pretty jealous of the Greenie." Minho teased.

He balled his fist but before Gally could retaliate Alby cut in, "He's fine. Allen go and get the Greenie. If you're not back in ten I'll come get you myself."

Allen flashed a reassuring smile at Gally before turning and leaving.

When he reached the second floor of the homestead the light in the Glade had mostly dimmed, casting long shadows along the walls. Allen knocked on the door where Newt was and pushed it open. The silence inside the room was broken from the soft snores of the Newbie. Allen couldn't help but smile and feel the word _'cute'_ pop into her mind. She left for a moment to a neighboring room and returned shortly with a matted blanket. Allen draped it over Newt after making sure his head and hand weren't bleeding.

Unable to do anything more for the boy, Allen closed the door softly and went back to join the others.

George was huddled around a smoldering pit trying to kindle the flame back to life while Greg and Alby made sandwiches. Minho was sprawled out in the grass with his eyes closed claiming to be _'supervising'._ Gally met Allen as he approached the group. "Where is he?"

Allen threw a finger back at the homestead. "Sleeping."

Gally pursed his lips, satisfied with the answer. "Al' and I are going to get some wood from the forest for you, George." The only one who raised an eyebrow at this was Greg, not liking the tone Gally had but the two were gone before he could say anything.

Out of earshot from the group and hidden behind the trunks of trees, Gally put a light hand on Allen's shoulder and stopped her. Gally let his hand move from her shoulder to jaw – cupping her face perfectly. "I like you, Al', a lot," he said in a gentle voice. "And I don't want to lose you. I'm sorry for being so protective, I just don't wanna to see some crazy Greenie hurt you. The way he came out of that box – _he's dangerous._ Promise you won't go wandering off alone anymore."

Allen bit her lip, she couldn't promise that.


	9. Chapter 9

Chuck handed Thomas the little wooden man that he had made and asked him to hold on to it for him. "-made it for my parents," the chubby boy said longingly, "incase they're out there, ya' know?"

"They're out there," Thomas tried to reassure him. "We'll find them." He extended out his hand trying to give back the little wooden doll but Chuck hesitated to take it.

"You stand a better chance than me getting out of here."

"What?" Thomas was astonished by the boy's lack of confidence. "No, Chuck. We'll get out of here together and we'll find them. I promise." He forced the wood doll back into Chucks hand and the boy's spirit seemed to lift.

They both sat cross legged on the ground in silence, watching the torch flicker and cast shadows around Thomas's temporary cell. Chuck was about to leave when out of the corner of their eye they caught a moving shape. Just barely visible from the distant glow of a fire a person moved slowly across the Glade and disappeared into the trees.

"He ain't right," Chuck muttered to himself, shaking his head in empathy.

Thomas tried to follow the figure as it moved out of the fire light in deeper into the woods. "That was Allen, right?"

Chuck nodded, pulling at the grass. " _Pigsty,_ is what everyone actually calls him."

"What's his deal? I tired asking Newt and Minho but they both kind of got defensive."

"Well," Chuck scooted in a little bit towards Thomas getting ready to provide information that no one else had. It felt like a privilege. "When I first got here I honestly didn't even know he existed. A lot of the older boys would tease me about not going in to the Dead Heads alone because somethin' was in there. Scared the klunk out of me. I believed 'em too. They put me closest to the trees when I first got here and I'd hear somethin' movin' around in there at night." Chuck tried to roll the embarrassment off by giving a faint laugh. "Then one night about two weeks after I arrived I had to use the pot. Couldn't see a shucking thing and got lost along the way," he paused. "Doesn't look like a big place during the day but at night it can get confusing," Chuck tried to defend himself to no one in particular. "Anyways, I was wanderin' for probably 30 minutes before somethin' starts makin' noise behind me. Not in a scary way, ya' know? More like one of Winston's pigs following you for food. I turn around and it's Allen, trying to make as much noise as possible so he doesn't scare me. He nods his head and shows me to the pots then back to the hammocks. Didn't say a shuckin' word about it to no one." Appreciation flooded Chuck's voice in the last sentence.

Thomas twisted his tongue around in his mouth trying to figure out where Allen fit into all of this. "Why does he live out there, though?"

"He went crazy after his twin brother died."

"Newt said he had a brother, but not about how he died." Thomas tried to steer the conversation to what he really wanted to know.

"No one really does," Chuck admitted. "The Keepers that were around at the time are secretive about it. A lot of the boys said that he slept too close to the pigs and was eaten in his sleep, and that Al' tries to be a pig so he can be close to him or some klunk like that."

An entertained expression stretched across Thomas's face. "There's no way that's true, you know that right?"

Chuck shrugged.

"What's he do out there all day when everyone else is working?"

"Sleeps, I guess. He stays up all night so he's gotta sleep some time." Chuck looked back towards the trees with a quick glance. "You couldn't pay me to sleep out in those trees by myself."

Thomas chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, "who else was around when his brother died?"

"Alby and Minho," Chuck thought for a moment, "probably Gally and Newt too. I think I heard Frypan talkin' about it once, but it must've happened when he first got here."

"Was it someone else that killed his -?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Minho always answers that if you grow the back bone to ask him. They say it was an accident."

They sat for a moment deciding whether to continue the conversation or not. "Alright, well, you should probably get out of here before anyone catches you talking to me." Thomas gave Chuck a friendly smile before watching him stand and leave.

When the light came back into the Glade the next day, there was no trace of Allen and Gally's fight unless you knew what you were looking for.

On the side of the Homestead were a few patches of flatten grass where Allen had landed and stayed after being kicked. The door frame of the Homestead had a partial bloody smear perfectly positioned to look like wet mud. If you followed the stairs up to the second floor there would be occasional droplets of mucus or blood already absorbing into the dried and cracking hardwood. Then, where both Alby and the unnamed girl slept soundlessly, there were handprints. A bloody handprint on the doorknob, on the cabinets clumsily looking for bandages, in drawers trying to locate a needle and thread, a red stained hand rag at had fallen at the foot of Alby's bed. A a rather unsettling stream of blood had dried and clumped together the new girl's hair. And small footprints leading to the woods were starting to fade as the dew on the grass evaporated and the day began.

A small bundle of boys were marching there way over to the Slammer erasing some of Allen's tracks without noticing. Newt with his limp still managed to lead the way and was more than thrilled to open Thomas' cage and set him free. There was a certain excitement to the morning that completely overshadowed last night's events and it was due to the fact that the Glade had gained another Runner. Minho was a part of the group and was ready to show Thomas into the Maze for a quick first day experience. All of the Gladers seemed to wake as Thomas was released and gather at a distance to watch as Minho walked them to the Map Room and disappeared.

Newt and Chuck turned to head off to their respective jobs. With a cool reassurance that things were going back to normal now, Newt gave Chuck a pat on the back and parted.

Allen was in the woods at that very moment so riddled with fear and pain that the needle they were using to try and sew up their side had no string. Fogged by their pained delusion, Allen was just repeatedly stabbing themselves with a needle to try and close a wound.

At some point in the night Allen had recognized their nose was broken, or at least felt that way, and Gally's boot had managed to split open the skin on her ribcage. Besides that, there were just a few nasty bruises and most likely an undiagnosed concussion. Ninety percent of the blood came from her nose but between both injuries her clothes and skin had successfully been stained red.

Allen let out a low desperate growl similar to what a wounded animal would make. She threw the needle to the ground frustrated that the stitches weren't working. Unsure of exactly how bad the cut was and not completely aware of their surroundings, Allen put a hand down on her side trying to stop the bleeding even though it had ended an hour ago.

It was now going on 48 hours since they had slept, and the previous day festered like an open sore with maggots on their mind. The war waging inside of them was brutal – only getting worse as the sleep deprivation increased. The girl and boy living inside Allen's head were each fighting for control, for dominance, for _existence_.

"You should have stayed in the woods." Allen muttered.

She squirmed, uncomfortable with being addressed. "I was with _Minho_ ," a soft whisper answered through the same lips.

"And then Minho _left_ ," the anger was starting to rise. Allen's sole purpose in this world was to protect her, to keep her secret, to keep her safe. It was becoming difficult to reason with some of the decisions they had made over the last several days. "You should have gone to the Dead Heads."

"Gally would have followed."

Hearing her argue made him furious. " _Gally_ wouldn't have stood a chance with us in these woods."

They fell quiet. He was right. Even if Gally had followed they would have had the upper hand. It's easier to lose people in the trees and hide. They had weapons out here too. Sticks, rocks, _their axe_.

"I need antibiotics," she stayed bluntly. "I can already feel the fever."

He huffed, knowing that this time she was right. "Why didn't you grab any when we were in the homestead?"

"Bit preoccupied with the bleeding."

Allen looked down at their clothes and tried his hardest to clear their mind and think straight. "Change your clothes first, then we'll go."

She let go of her side and shook Allen off for a moment. At the base of the two trees that her hammock was strung across were piles of things. Odd bits of pieces from the Glade over the years - trinkets, strong sticks whittled with points, and some things that Greg had left behind. A very worn pair of shoes that he used to run with, his runners pack and knife, a few extra pieces of clothing and a large pile of rotting vine that had been pulled off the Maze walls.

With both hands, she peeled off her shirt to reveal a body that was beyond recognition. To them, it was normal, but to everyone else it would be considered ill. She was skin and bone, scars and scabs. Bruises that she wasn't able to compute quite yet were blooming all across her stomach and back from Gally's beating. The most alarming of all were the bandages that kept her chest pressed down and flat. Allen had done a poor job keeping up personal hygiene and she was suffering the consequences. Unchanged bandages held together with tightly knotted rope had led to a skin infection. The skin infection started out several years ago as a red rash which then turned in to an angry one. The rash had become enflamed and blisters started to form around a year ago. Now, the blisters were gone and replaced with bubbles of bacteria and fluid. Blotchy red marks could be found from her collar bones to the bottom of her ribcage, climaxing in the middle where her bandages began and ended. The chest wrap had cut into the skin creating bleeding, infected lines all the way around her chest and back.

It hurt, but taking it off was not an option. She picked up a faded grey shirt that had belonged to Greg. It was covered in just as much sweat, mud and dirt as her other shirt, but this one didn't have as much blood on it.

A shiver ran up Allen's spine and tingled the back of their skull as she put her brothers shirt on. Hair stood up on his arms and legs, goose bumps rising like little, one peak, mountains. Voluntarily stepping out in the Glade during the middle of the day went against all protocol. Even if they had been to the meetings recently and been seen by Gladers, there was a difference between this and that situation. The Gatherings were basically required while this was simply out of personal need.

Allen walked to the edge of the Dead Heads and checked to see if the coast was clear, overestimating for a moment the amount that everyone cared about him, and went in the straightest possible path to the infirmary. Boys were absorbed in their tasks for the day and didn't notice Allen or his shadow as it passed by. Allen noted that Newt was in the gardens pulling weeds, and spotted Jeff and Clint taking care of a few builders. As long as those three people were busy, Allen stood a good chance of no one knowing where he was heading or what had happened.

The Homestead was empty and Allen didn't waste any time. Hustling up the stairs and through the door of the infirmary he did one quick scan of the room to make sure no one was there before looking for antibiotics.

In the bed next to Alby, the new girl was twitching. Allen had missed the movement because her own fever was beginning to rage out of control and was making things difficult. The new girl's finger moved ever so slightly in her sleep, as a few beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Her lips moved quietly, giving the impression that she was saying the same thing over and over again.

Allen knocked over a large glass jar that contained metal pliers. It broke at is toppled to the ground and shattered in every direction. The glass tinkling came to a standstill after a moment. Allen stood frozen in place - on her tippy toes trying to reach up with on arm to a high shelf and the other reached out to the side in a pathetic attempt to catch the jar that had fallen. They waited for any indicator that someone had heard the crash.

While none of the Glader's outside had heard it, the sound from the glass breaking was loud enough to wake her. The girl with no name shot up from the bed and looked widely around the room. Only hearing her heart pound in her ears Allen didn't notice the movement and continued to search for the antibiotics she was looking for.

The girl watched Allen with confusion and panic vibrating to the surface.

Feeling a sensation on the back of her neck Allen stopped, came down off her tippy toes, and turned around very slowly.

Allen immediately regretted their decision to come here, "You're ok-," was all he had time to say before the girl bounded out of bed and grabbed the nearest object, a broken chair with four mended legs, and used it as a weapon.

"Stay away from me." She warned, feeling the heat rise on her cheeks. "You stay away from me!"

Allen put his hands up and took a few more steps back, trying to make it as obvious as possible that he meant no harm. She walked around the room, in a wide circle from him. The pair moved opposite of each other. As she rounded towards the door, Allen moved out of the way and towards Alby – hands still in the air.

"Who are you?" The girl asked this time, letting go of the chair with one hand and fumbling for the door without taking her eyes off Allen.

Call it instinct, or intuition, hell maybe even Allen was clairvoyant, but there was something surrounding the girl that just screamed bad news. **_Stay away from her, Allen,_** Greg's memory warned in his ear, **_she doesn't belong here._** Whether the ghost of his brother meant that literally or figuratively, Allen wasn't going to wait around to sort out.

He brought himself to full height and narrowed his eyes. The girl picked up on Allen's demeanor changing and forgot about trying to get out of the room, bringing both hands back to the chair, ready to fight. He took a step forward, not around, then another. Closing the gap between them.

"I said stay away from me!" The girl yelled again, brandishing the chair in front of his face.

Allen stopped just out of reach. With great precision, he knocked the chair out of her hands with his forearm sending it to the floor. All four mended legs breaking off again on impact. The girl moved with the chair, stumbling out of the way of the door giving Allen the freedom to leave.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, he lunged. Not at the girl, but out the door instead. Sprinting down the stairs and out of the homestead as fast as he could, Allen ran to the only person who had the authority to know that the girl was finally awake.

 _Newt._

Grass slashed across his ankles as Allen's arms pumped at his side, trying to synchronize the movement of his legs together. He reached Zarts farm in record time, just as Newt was finishing up work and putting down his track-hoe. Trying to come to a stop but slipping on the slick grass, Allen slid, losing his balance and knocking right in to the back of Newt.

He spun and caught her by the elbows, supporting her for a split second until Allen regained his footing and pushed away from Newt. "Bloody hell, Al-,"

"Girl," Allen croaked, doubling over after stepping away from him desperately trying to grasp for air. The little amount of scabbing that had formed on his side had broke and blood was starting to seep through Greg's old shirt. He put a hand on his side, trying to both hide it and stop the bleeding.

Newt didn't know what to take in first. The single word Allen had said or the appearance of the boy himself. His clothes were stained, burned, and yellow like they always were, but with fresh patches of blood dotting the cloth. Allen was haggard looking and thinner than normal. His hair a shaggy black mess and skin coated in soot and grime. What alarmed Newt the most though wasn't his odd proclamation of _'girl,'_ but rather the darkening purple bruise on half of Allen's neck and collar bone. An ancient wall started to crumble internally for Newt as he realized what damage had been done to Allen after years of being alone.

Newt took a step forward, an uneasy concern overtaking him. "You alright, Al? Klunk has probably seen better days-," he tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but Allen pulled away thinking Newt was making fun of him.

"The girl," he said again. Throwing one arm in the direction of the homestead and standing up straight. Still trying to open his chest to breathe normally.

"What about the girl? You're not makin' any shuckin' sense -,"

Allen growled in frustration, "She's awake."

Forgetting about Allen all together, Newt's eyes went wide and left him there heading directly for the homestead where a small commotion was beginning to.

Allen watched as Newt jogged as best he could with a limp towards the action. Closing his eyes and doubling over again for another minute, he debated if what he did was right or not. "Get your ass over there and stay close." She said authoritatively from within. They still needed the antibiotics and in the commotion she might be able to get some without anyone noticing.

Just in time for his breathing to even out, Allen sighed in understanding, then started to jog back.

The girl had locked herself in the infirmary with Alby. There was a group of boys already forming around the door in excitement, waiting with sheer anticipation to see a female. Newt was at the front of the crowd by the time Allen arrived, banging on the door.

"Come on now, girlie," he said through the walls, "We ain't gonna hurt you. Just wanna talk."

There were a few giggles from the boys that suggested the group would disagree with Newt's claim, but the girl wasn't having any of it. "Go away!" She yelled back.

"Someone hunt down Thomas," Newt said over his shoulder, "Gotta feelin' he's the only she'll reason with. He and Minho should be back 'bout now." Without a second to waste, Chuck's heavy build weaseled its way out of the group and thumped down the stairs in a hurry.

Allen squared his shoulders and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, then moved to replace Chuck in the crowd. He found himself right behind Newt, with boys pressed up against him on all sides. Several of them threw questionable glances at Allen, peeved they had to smell him.

Newt turned back to the door and knocked again, "can't go away cause' there ain't nowhere to go. Why don't you open this door up and we'll have a chat."

No response.

"You gotta' be hungry. We'll make you somethin' proper. Good that, Greenie?" He tried again.

Before the new girl could respond, the chaotic scrambling of feet stumbling up the stairs made each boy look to see Thomas, shortly followed by Minho and Chuck. The trio red in the cheeks from sprinting over after hearing the news.

The Gladers parted to give Thomas a clear path to the door, each boy knowing that the Greenie had some sort of unspoken claim over the new girl. Thomas shifted uncomfortably on his feet looking to Newt for what to do but became distracted by the face of someone he wasn't totally expecting to see – Allen.

He looked different in the light, rather than in the deep shadows casted by the poorly lit Gathering hut. Thomas could understand how Allen had been overlooked all these years. Just like Newt had noticed earlier that day, Thomas saw the bruises on Allen's neck and grime coating every surface as if it were a second layer of skin. His hair was un-kept, knotted, unruly and hiding most of his face. He was short, barely noticeable as he stood behind Newt, and borderline starved. Allen's teeth gnawed at his cracked lower lip, and out from underneath Allen's shaggy hair glowed the warmest brown eyes Thomas had ever seen. All of the unattractive, self-inflicted, physical features Allen had added over the years were the perfect mask to hide what was in plain sight.

"Go on then," Newt's voice tore him away, "tell her you want to chat."

Coming back to reality, Thomas refocused back on the girl he's been waiting to talk to since she arrived. He banged on the door, "Its Thomas. Why don't you open up?"

No response.

"Can I come in?" Thomas yelled through the door again.

"Thomas?" A questionable voice asked back.

He looked hesitant to answer the question, "Yeah."

After a moment a small click from the lock being let go sounded. All the Gladers pushed in tighter, assuming they were all going to squeeze in to the room once the door was opened. It swung open to give just the smallest sliver, revealing the thinnest picture of a dark haired girl with pale skin on the other side. "Just you." She said to Thomas.

Grunts of disapproval and a few moans gave way as Thomas looked to Newt for the go-ahead and slid into the room with the new girl. Boys had already started to turn and leave when they realized there was no chance of being a part of the action. The rest of the Gladers waited until the door snapped shut and locked again before throwing in the towel completely.

Frustrated, Allen accepted that this was his time to go as well and slid out from behind Newt. He would have to come back at dark and hope that the girl had moved on to sleep somewhere else.

A hand fell on his shoulder however and held Allen still. "And where do ya' think you're goin?" Said Newt.

Allen turned to glare at him, shrugged off his hand, then started to walk away again.

"I said you ain't leavin, Al'," Newt took a step to follow him. "I wanna talk with you now that Thomas is busy."

He stopped and tried to reason with himself. **_You trust him?_** The memory of Greg coming back to haunt Allen for the second time today. _I do,_ replied Allen from long ago. Manning up, Allen gave his head a good scratch and looked to Newt. _"What?"_ Clearly written on his face.

The rest of the Gladers had left besides Chuck, who had sat crossed legged right next to the door Thomas had disappeared behind. "Why don't we get you something to eat, good that? Let's go to the kitchen."

"No," Allen rattled deeply like a bull frog, and began to leave again.

"Well then I ain't askin' you." Newt followed him a few more steps.

This time Allen went on the defensive. He hated being told what to do by anyone, but especially someone who hasn't been in the Glade as long as he had and even more so if that person was Newt. Allen squared his shoulders ready to fight and tried to become as tall as possible – still only meeting Newt's chin.

Like Minho, they had spent so long together that Newt didn't need much more than that to understand what Allen was trying to get across. He might not be Gally, or Greg, but that didn't mean Newt couldn't navigate Allen's butchered language. "Alby ain't with it right now, so I'm in charge. Which means you, and all the other shanks here are listen' to me right now. I'm only askin' you to get somethin' to eat, Al', not cut off your bloody hand."

Allen knew he was right, but that didn't mean he had to be polite about it. With a roll of his eyes, he turned and started to walk out of the homestead, Newt right behind him to make sure they went to the Kitchen. Once safely inside, after asking Frypan to evacuate the area, Newt shut the door and started the process of making a sandwich.

"Don't suppose your gonna fess-up what happened to you?" Newt asked Allen while focusing on spreading peanut butter.

Allen flushed with embarrassment, thinking that the blood stain on his side was still the only indicator of his fight with Gally. What would happen if he told Newt the truth, he wondered. _Gally choked me out last night after trying to blackmail me into joining his side._ The chance of that being believed by anyone was slim. So Allen picked a different topic to explain. His clothes had some new decently sized patches of blood on them that could be used as a distraction to the bigger issue. The biggest blotch was on his side from Gally kicking him one too many times. Then there were the older, smaller blood stains. Some were from wiping the blood and blister juice on his hands to his shirt after chopping wood. Others were so old that he had long since forgotten the reason behind them.

"Axe," Allen said shortly, pointing to the stains on the lower front. "Alby," gesturing towards the ones on his chest. He was hoping Newt would believe that this was the same shirt he had worn when tending to Alby after being stung. "Fell," he said, pulling the side of his shirt around to the front.

Newt watched as he closed the sandwich and cut it in two, weighing the truth behind each explanation. "I forgot how much blood was always on you when you were a med-jack. But I ain't talkin' bout the blood, Allen. I'm askin' who beat you up recently." Newt picked up the sandwich and extended it towards Allen, who was standing a fair distance away with his arms crossed looking annoyed.

He didn't take the food.

"I ain't got time to worry about you, Allen." Newt said with frustration, waving the sandwich. "You look like klunk, and I ain't teasin' you neither. Now stop bein' a child and eat the shucking sandwich."

Having a million things to yell at him, but no confidence to do so, Allen accepted defeat and grabbed the sandwich. The widowed twin was all bark nut no bite. He walked over to the counter, pushed himself up, and sat on the ledge as he started to pick off small bits and pieces of bread, peanut butter, and jelly.

Not proud that he had to resort to pushing Allen around in order to get him to eat, Newt stood for a moment debating what to do. He moved to make himself a sandwich too and joined Allen shortly on the kitchen counter top. "It was Gally, wasn't it?"

Allen didn't answer. Which was all Newt needed to confirm his assumption.

They ate in silence until both of them were nearly done. "Thomas was askin' about you last night when he was locked up-,"

Allen shrugged at the old news, "Minho."

Newt paused, acknowledging that Minho had already notified him. "- asked a lot of questions 'bout you to Chuck. Wanted to know your story all the sudden. Little Chuckie told me this morning after Thomas left for the Maze."

Allen didn't respond and hoped that no one told Thomas too much or things that weren't true. Ideally, no one would have asked or said anything at all.

"Here's how I see it, Al." Newt straightened his back and took a deep breath. "Tommy's got a pretty good intuition 'bout shanks in here, and there's somethin' 'bout you that had him goin' for a bit the other night. Wanted to go find you and talk. Told him you weren't much of talker and to leave you alone. Thought that was always what to do when it came to you. _'Leave him alone,'_ " Newt said, like he was trying to mimic his own voice, then sighed. "But when you ran into me at the end of workin' today, I realized somethin'-,"

Allen kept his focus on the small bit of sandwich that still remained in his hand. He tried his hardest to keep the redness in his cheeks from showing too much. Attempting to make sense of all the information Newt was giving him right now was difficult. With the fever, aches, and pains on top of Thomas asking questions, Newt noticing him, learning that other people might have wanted to talk to him but Newt kept them away. He didn't know what emotion to feel – _protected, isolated, affection?_

"I don't think leavin' you alone was the right thing to do."

The words made her stop dead. Hunched over on the counter top, Allen's leg stopped swinging and jaw stopped chewing. She froze. Barely remembering to breathe.

Newt was waiting for him to say something, but gave in to a better explanation after no response came. "Maybe 'cause you're only out at night, or I just thought you were doin' alright and haven't really looked at you recently, but you don't look well, Allen." The conversation was obviously stressful for the both of them judging by the tone Newt had taken. "If anythin', you look like Winston's been feeding you to the pigs." He chewed on the inside of his lip. "All I'm sayin' is we've both been busy, but I owe it to you to be there if you need me. And I think Al', you need me right now whether you want it or not."

If Allen's mind was a room, and both Allen and the girl were inside of it, she would have fallen to her knees and started crying while Allen shook his fists and screamed swear words at the top of his lungs. Both personalities needing two different things made it difficult to side with one or find a median. Their hands started to shake. "You owe me nothing." Allen growled threateningly.

Newt looked to him, "I do. It's my fault you're alone out here. Greg-,"

Allen shook his head, letting the girl inside overpower him and win the battle for control. Whether it was the sadness in Newt's voice, or the tender spot in her heart that a first crush will always hold, She clawed tooth and nail to the surface. "Greg's dead," she spoke softly. With tears in her eyes she looked up to Newt who was peering back at her. "He fell. No one could've stop it."

The sweet maternal voice that Newt hadn't heard in ages graced his ears once more. His heart slowed and he wanted so badly to say something sweet back, but couldn't – not to another boy. Allen caught on to Newt's hesitation and the small but building atmosphere that reminded her of the old Gally - the Gally who was so obvious with his affection.

Quickly, Allen cleared his throat and hopped off the counter top, making Newt snap out of his train of thought too. "Fire," he mumbled, eager to leave the room.

Newt wasn't able to think of something fast enough to get Allen to stay. The boy slipped out of the door and back in to the Glade before he had a chance to even open his mouth and say 'wait'. The conversation hadn't exactly covered everything Newt had wanted to discuss. He sat there, legs still dangling off the counter and thought a bit more about Allen.

Disregarding what happened to Greg, even Newt couldn't deny that Allen hadn't been treated properly over the last few years since the passing of his twin. He had tried in the beginning, but ultimately the rein of Alby took over and both Greg's death and Allen fell off the list of concerns. More and more boys kept getting sent up until eventually hardly anyone cared to figure out or help the newly single twin. Allen just melted away. Another face in the sea of boys that had become the Glade. Newt assumed that since he had distanced himself, Allen wanted to be left alone. But now he realized that no one should have let Allen go missing for so long.

Newt shook his head, trying to shake off the guilt, and focused on pulling off the built up callouses on his hands from months of gardening. It was his fault. He knew it. Everyone who was there that day knew it. Allen knew it. And when Allen smashed in to him today looking the way he did – worn, beaten, and dirty - Newt couldn't ignore the responsibility he owed Allen any longer. Newt never questioned Allen surrendering his position as Keeper of the Med-jacks or moving to the woods, even though he should have. He had witnessed all of it. As each building block in Allen's life crumbled, Newt never did a thing to stop any of them. He had told himself so many times ' _Allen was fine and wanted to be left alone,'_ that he accepted it as truth over time.

But it wasn't the truth, Newt was forced to realize now, Allen wasn't born to be left alone.

* * *

 **B.T.**

Allen took great pride in the fact that the Greenie hung close to him but Gally hated it, to say the least.

In the early morning on the day of their day off, Allen had gone to fetch the Greenie and show him around. Gally not only insisted that he go with them, but basically demanded that Greg tell him to do so. There were light hearted jokes made by Minho and a few passive comments from George, but Gally followed regardless and marched around the Glade with Allen and Newt.

"He can't shuckin' talk anyways, who's going to explain everything?" He said with a huff before following the pair.

When Gally caught up to them Allen was trying to half mime where everything was in the kitchen to a very confused looking Greenie. "He's sayin' that if you want something to eat during the day you have to make it yourself. There ain't no chef here." He leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed.

Newt cocked an eyebrow at him not liking the intrusion. "Got that much, thanks."

Allen rolled his eyes before croaking out four words, "There is one rule-," he was about to begin the longest sentence ever spoken by him in the Glade before Gally cut him off.

"Do your part. No slackers."

Newt was finding it difficult to like anyone here, especially Gally. The way he looked at him was like he was scum. Allen was fine, if not a little weird, but he'd prefer it if no one else had to be introduced. The dread of interacting with the other boys here was exhausting. "That mean I get a job?"

"Eventually." Gally answered, "you'll hang out with Allen and I for a little bit in here helping around the Glade then eventually you'll try running with Minho, George, Greg, and Alby."

Allen pursed his lips and glared at Gally from behind the Greenie. He glared back then gave a silent expression of _'what?'_ like he didn't know what he was doing. "The Barn," Allen stated before leaving the kitchens and heading towards the newly finished structure on the other side of the Glade.

Gally let her pass but cut Newt off at the door. The two boys together caused friction to manifest in the air. "How's your head, Greenie?"

Unaware of what was causing Gally to be so hostile, Newt sneered, "could ask you the same thing with the eyebrows you're carrying." He shoved passed him and caught up to Allen, the only person he felt would have his back if something occurred.

Gally brought one hand up and touched an eyebrow in confusion before noticing the growing gap between them and catching up.

In the barn Allen made vague gestures towards the pens and animals roaming around. Newt decided that he liked it here best until he saw the chopping block covered in congealed blood. "Who kills them?" He asked Allen with a repulsed expression.

"Take turns."

"Alby does mostly, or I do." Gally butted in to their conversation again. "Al' has a weak stomach and it's like pulling nails to get Greg and Minho to do anything but run."

"It's not nice to talk about your friends that way, Gally." George appeared through the door with a big smile. "But it's still true," he winked at the Greenie. "How's everything going in here?"

"Good." Allen snorted with a rare smile of pride.

George gave a surprised chuckle, "well great! Glad the day is off to a good start. It's a sign. Why don't you guys walk with me to the box, we have to get ready and will need your help, Greenie."

Newt gave Allen a look out of the corner of his eye seeking reassurance. He nodded once and walked out first with the Greenie on his heels. "What're we going to do? It's not some sort of hazing thing is it?" He whispered so Gally couldn't hear.

Allen shook his head. "Trying to get out," he muttered, "George thinks we can climb down the way we came up."

"What?" Newt seemed dumbfounded. "How?"

He shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at George who was talking to Gally as they walked. "We roped him down yesterday. I didn't like it very much. Doesn't feel right."

"But we could get out? Get out of here and be able to go home, right?"

"If it works," Allen reminded him.

Newt's spirits seemed to lift and the dark cloud that had been hanging over him for the last few days disappeared. "Well that's easy, just get him to the bottom, right?"

This time Allen cocked an eyebrow at the Greenie. "It's complicated."

"Allen!" Greg hissed as they approached the box. He had heard him talking. Allen blushed and hung his head, peeling away from the Greenie and going to stand by his twin. Newt, not wanting to be left alone, followed. When Allen got close enough, Greg elbowed him in the side. The smaller twin looked up and glared at his brother as he rubbed his side.

"Dick." Allen muttered.

Greg elbowed him again, harder.

"Today's the day," George said optimistically addressing the group. "Alby is in charge from the instant I put the rope on to the instant I take it off. I'll be going down until we run out of rope or I hit the bottom, any questions?"

No one had any questions.

"Any opposed?"

For a moment no one stirred until Allen nudged Greg in the side. He flinched, feeling the pain from the two blows he'd dished out a minute earlier. "Allen does."

It wasn't the sort of group that you could speak out and be shunned with. George's smile didn't waiver and Alby didn't cross his arms in defense at the news of Allen disapproving. "We were talking last night," Greg continued for him, "He told me that he thinks that it's too dangerous. You could slip, or a knot could unravel. Say's he loses sight of you after ten feet."

"That's very nice of you to worry about me, Allen." George said honestly. "Everyone who agrees with Allen, please raise your hand."

Allen raised his hand and out of loyalty Greg raised his too.

"Any others?"

Newt shifted uncomfortable next to Allen, not knowing his place but no one else motioned.

"I appreciate you, Allen, but you know the rules. Majority wins." As a good leader though, George tried to find a happy solution. "How's this, I'll talk all the way down – that way, you can hear be after you can't see me anymore." While not ideal, Allen took what she was given and nodded in agreement. "Great! Everyone man your positions."

Ably stepped forward with a huge coil of thick rope over his shoulders. "Minho, Greg, you're being me. Gally, you and the Greenie are going to make sure the rope doesn't get tangled as it uncoils. Allen, you're by the edge again." He took a deep breath and surveyed his team. "Just like yesterday but with more rope."

Newt bit his lip not truly wanting to be away from the only person who he was familiar with but separated from Allen as he was told and stood by Gally. "It's easy because Greg and Minho are doing all the restraining as they lower him," Gally started to explain to the Greenie. "We just have to make sure no big knots or tears happen as the rope uncoils. Then we start pulling him back up, you and I will hop on and help." Now that Allen was near, Gally felt less threatened and more willing to help.

Newt stood furthest from the box with his hands crossed behind his back. He would be so lucky to arrive only three days before they found a way out and to never have to experience the horror that is the Maze. The Greenie watched as Allen helped Greg loop the rope around his waist then Minho and noted how petite he was compared to his much bulkier twin. There was something about Allen that tugged at his memories. It was frustrating to know that there was a whole previous life that Newt had lived but could not experience. He was missing some _one_ that much was obvious at this point. A brother, maybe.

"Ready?" Alby asked George at the lip of the opening.

"Ready." George responded. The two oldest Gladers gave each other a confident nod and Alby backed away.

George walked to the edge of the box and pressed the middle of his foot firmly on the point of the corner before leaning back. "Alright, Al', you and me." He gave Alby the thumbs up to start lowering the rope and George began to walk backwards and then perpendicular to the ground into the dark hole. "It's mostly concrete," he began talking still within view. "But then about 50 feet down, right before you pulled me up yesterday, it turned to dirt. I'm glad I didn't wear shoes, to be honest. I'd prefer to feel the dirt under my toes – means we're getting close to the bottom I assumed."

Allen got down on his knees and peered over the edge down at George. "You know Al'," George said looking up at him starting to already breathe heavily from the excitement and physical strain, "there's something about the way you and Greg work. I like it. Wish I had a twin sometimes. Can you read each other's minds?"

Laughing lightly, Allen shook his head. George got further down, the shadows eating up towards his thighs. "You guys finish each other's sentences though, I've heard it when you talked more. Alby and I used to think it was a hoot. Not so much though these days though, since you've stopped talking. I know it hurts, but I think you should talk more. If you want me to talk to Greg about it -," George's right foot slipped and he teetered for a split second on his left. "I'm ok!" He shouted up, knowing Allen was already nervous.

He continued to chat to himself as he walked his way down the side of the box shaft. He talked more about Greg and how he was a good brother for supporting Allen today when he opposed. He talked about how worried he was when Allen passed out in the Maze or how when they both arrived, Greg always stood slightly in front of Allen to protect him. By the time he started to talk about Minho, George was completely hidden inside the dark tunnel.

"He doing ok, Al'?" Alby asked. Beads of sweat had started to break out over his, Minho's and Greg's forehead from the weight on the rope and keeping it from slipping.

Allen gave a thumbs up without looking away from the dark hole.

"How much more rope we got?" Alby huffed over his shoulder to Gally.

"About 75 feet. We're almost to where we stopped yesterday."

Allen adjusted his position from kneeling to laying flat on his stomach with his head peering over the side. He could still faintly hear George talking, but could no longer make out what.

Ten minutes went by and another five feet. The group had gone rather tense. They were approaching where they stopped yesterday and it was clear, even to Newt, that things were stressful.

From way down below the surface there was a swoosh of air that echoed all the way to Allen. The sound caught him off guard. "George?" He called down into the hole.

The rope went from handing off the edge at an angle to laying flat along the wall and Alby lurched forward from a sudden drop in weight. "George?!" Allen shouted this time.

"Pull him up!" Alby commanded and in unison all remaining boys grabbed on to the rope and began to hoist it up. Allen stood up and tried to help, even though the strength of the boys behind her just caused it to run through her fingers. "Faster!" Alby yelled again.

Allen saw the top of George's head hung to one side first. She dropped back down to her knees and reached in with one hand. When his shoulder was in reach, Allen put an arm under his bicep and heaved George out of the box shaft. "George?" She said quickly, shaking his face. "George wake up!"

It was shock that kept her from seeing the truth. Allen saw it the instant George's torso came out of the hole, but refused to acknowledge it. She could cauterize it, or stitch it, or stop the bleeding some how, she just needed George to wake up. "George!" But he didn't and he wouldn't.

The rest of the boys stood a few feet away, the rope limp in their hands. George's torso had been cut clean in half. His legs missing in the abyss below the Glade. Blood pooled around Allen as he tried to wake him up and stop the bleeding by putting his hands on the bottom of George's stomach and trying to shove it back in. No one stopped Allen. No one knew how to move. Their breath caught in the back of their throats as they watched thick streams of blood begin to branch out across the grass and absorb into Allen's clothes.

* * *

 **I have no excuses. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sorry for the absence. - Alison**


	10. Chapter 10

Zart was a simple and loyal person. His best friend was Frypan but he often found himself being friendly with everyone, even Gally and the rest of the Builders. When he arrived in the Glade he was quiet and observed more than he talked. Zart remembered the first day he saw the Glade's garden. It had been overrun with weeds, infected with aphids, and the soil was rotten. The only thing the Gladers had managed to grow there was corn, which could literally grow anywhere as long as it had enough water. By the time he had arrived there were 16 boys and none of them had a Green Thumb. Much like Gally with building, or Frypan with cooking, Zart forged himself into a Keeper Position that had never been around simply by starting the task and maintaining the chore of gardening.

"Weird, isn't it?" Zart had been huddled down close to his crop of squash when Newt joined him for a moment to help pull weeds.

Newt ripped a small plant out of the ground, "Weird is an understatement."

The two boys fell quiet for a moment, enjoying the peace of a familiar task. "She have a name?" Zart asked.

"Teresa," Newt grunted taking a moment to look up and see if Thomas and Tesera could be seen around the Glade.

"They know each other?"

"Seems like it."

Silence fell again as Zart started to prune the nearby berry bushes. The two boys worked diligently over the land as a welcomed distraction for nearly an hour before Zart asked another question. "Al' ok?"

The interest seemed to catch Newt off guard. He paused for a moment debating what to say. Normally he'd brush off the question and tell Zart to mind his vegetables. But Newt had just promised Allen the previous day to not do that anymore, and if he truly wanted Allen to transition back into the community then it started by answering simple questions like this.

Newt cleared his throat, "Why?"

Zart shrugged. "I was standin' right next to you yesterday when he told you about the girl waking up. He looked more like klunk than usual." He was trying to play it off as a careless thought but in reality Zart was extremely alarmed seeing Allen yesterday. He had been keeping an eye on Allen since the day he went into the Dead Heads and noticed how fragile the boy looked. Zart often found himself looking for Allen at dusk and dawn. During the most recent Gathering he had trouble focusing on the discussion when he noticed Al' was standing in the back of the room. Yesterday Zart couldn't help but acknowledge again how beat Allen looked and wanted nothing more than to help the boy.

"He'll be ok. Just got scratched up a bit."

"From what, he get in a fight with a shucking Griever?" Zart chuckled.

"Gally," Newt sighed after a moment, "actually."

Zart stopped trimming the plants and looked at Newt directly. "Are you serious?"

Newt glanced back for only a second before biting his lip and focusing back on the earth. He hoped that he was making the right decision by starting to reveal more of Allen's story to other Gladers. "Yeah, they uh-," New paused, "have a long history. I have to tell Minho when he gets back, he'll handle it."

"Gally has hit Allen **_before_**?"

"Look," Newt didn't like the accusatory tone in Zart's voice, "It goes back a long while and Minho has always handled it. Alby knows but we're not going to kick the shank out for it. So now you know and you can help keep an eye out for him, good that?"

The Gardener wasn't sure how to take the news but nodded his head in agreement. Zart stared into the berry bushes trying to comprehend the information. Any other boy would be put on trial for breaking one of their key rules: _to not harm another Glader_. What made Gally an exception?

"Al' is like half his body weight, why is Gally fighting him?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could acknowledge them. He turned to Newt and saw an expression of controlled agitation. Clearly this information wasn't something he was happy to be sharing.

Newt stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants. "It started when Gally got stung by a Griever. Way before you got here. It hasn't happened in a long time, years actually, but he does it because he blames Allen for gettin' bit and changin'."

The two Gladers were standing now, both holding gardening tools in their hands. "Well," Zart stood uneasily debating whether or not to ask the question. " _was_ Al' the reason Gally got bit?"

The small hand shovel in Newt's hand began to bounce nervously. "Yeah. They were -,"

"Newt!" His name was called out over the Glade. "Newt!" Clint came sprinting out of the Homestead and headed straight for the Gardens. "Alby! Alby is awake!" The news settled on Newt's ears and he dropped the shovel before moving towards Clint.

"Go get him, would you?" Newt called over his shoulder to Zart.

"Who, Gally?"

"No. Allen. Go get Allen and meet us in the Homestead."

A certain sense of excitement flushed through Zart when he was given the task. Even though it meant heading back out into the Dead Heads, he was more eager to go fetch Allen this time than he was the previous. Without hesitation, Zart placed the scissors he had been using down on a table and headed towards the trees.

Allen was sprawled out on her hammock with one foot dangling off the side and an arm hanging off the opposite end, her fingers fiddling with the handle of her axe that was wedged blade first into the earth. She had her eyes closed trying to think of a happier time when her side wasn't bleeding and her chest didn't itch. The only memory that came to mind was the day Greg took her out to run in the Maze. It was right after George had died, and Alby was on a war path to get out. The twins had partnered up and they spent an entire day running around the Maze and making bad jokes. What made her happiest was that the entire time they were running Greg didn't scorn her for talking. Allen talked the entire day as her true self and it felt so freeing.

Allen couldn't let her have it though. He was her intrusive thoughts and stole away the happy memory. The war waging inside of them was growing.

 _We shouldn't have done it_ , Allen thought, _we shouldn't have been in the infirmary. You're so stupid._

"I needed _help_." She responded. "I **_still_** _need help."_

 _But look what you did. You woke_ _ **her**_ _up._

"Just shut up about it. OK? We did it. It's done." She yanked the axe out of the ground and threw it with great precision at the tree in front of them. The blade end stuck, wedging the axe in the trunk of the tree.

Allen's voice went quiet for a moment, then picked back up. _Now we have Newt thinkin' he's gotta babysit us._

"And whose fault is that?" She began to pull grass that brushed her fingertips. "If you took better care of us he wouldn't have noticed."

 _You need to forget about Newt. The only good thing he's ever done for you is leave us alone. We wanted to be left alone, he wasn't wrong-_

"You wanted to be left alone. _You did_. You took over. _You_ did this to us. Forced us out here. I don't want to be living in the woods smelling like klunk all day."

 _It was our only option after Gally went through the changin'. It was the smartest thing to do. You're not safe here. I was protecting us. You._

"Shut up." Grace growled, wringing her fingers together.

 _This is all for you. Yeah we might smell like crap but I've kept our secret, haven't I?_

"Shut up."

 _Maybe if you and Greg weren't so shucking bent over sticking together, none of this would have happened._

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She pressed her hands over her ears and clenched her eyes shut. _Shut up shut up shut up,_ the words echoed in her mind, _shut up shut up shut up._

A hand fell on her shoulder for the second time in twenty-four hours as the Glade started to dim into another dull sunset. It was kinder than Newt's grasp and slightly larger.

Allen jumped so high she fell out of her hammock. Scrambling to find her bearings, she spotted who it was.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Zart muttered, "I was callin' your name, but you seemed a bit caught up…"

She flushed a deep crimson and began to back away. Sweat stains under Zart's armpits and lower back tinted his grey shirt. A pack still strapped firmly across his chest and a long machete sticking out of his belt loop. He must have just gotten done in the gardens.

"I'm not meanin' to make fun of you, I swear." Zart said quickly, sensing that Allen might run. "Newt sent me out here. Wanted to tell you that Alby is awake and that you're needed in the Homestead."

Relief melted through Allen. Not as medically confident as she once was, Allen was becoming convinced that she might have done something wrong when applying the serum. She wasn't entirely sure _when_ or _if_ Alby would wake up. She tried to control her heavy breathing from the shock of someone appearing in their woods. Allen looked at Zart and spun her pointer finger in the air a few times, trying to ask when Alby woke up.

"I…uh," he looked around hoping someone might come and save him. An overwhelming flush of butterflies flew through his stomach as he realize they were alone in the woods together.

Allen shook her head realizing that knowing their sign language was a bit above Zart's paygrade.

"Can you just come, please?" Zart's expression was a mixture of confusion as he stared back at her. Allen wasn't aware though that he had slowed his pace when he had begun hearing voices in the woods or that he had heard most of their conversation - the half internal argument between a human Zart couldn't hear or see and a voice that was octaves higher than anything he'd ever heard Allen sound like before.

Allen raised an eyebrow sensing something new about Zart as he bounced anxiously from one foot to another. When you spent as long as they had observing people you begin to learn their characteristics and Zart was starting to get nervous. _He was uncomfortable, but why?_ Allen stayed put, forcing Zart to do the same, and watched has the Gardeners expression paled in color. Zart's mind was running a mile a minute as pieces started to fall together in his head. He recalled Allen's big eyes the day he stopped him from running in to the Maze, Allen's fragile look and high cheek bones, and now a voice that did not match his body. As each one of these clues came together for Zart it showed plainly on his face.

He was beginning to figure out their secret. "Shit." Allen muttered before storming off and leaving Zart to fend for himself in the trees.

As he walked he looked at one of the doors to the Maze and dreamed of running into the desolate area so he could be eaten by a Griever. Just to get it all over with. There was something too headstrong for that inside Allen though. A personality that was more willing to face the trauma and see what the world held on the other side. Allen headed towards the Homestead where he hoped to be met with a healthy and happy Alby. That would be the best thing that could come from today.

Climbing up to infirmary Allen could hear a few voices. They stopped at the closed door and took a deep breath, getting ready for Allen to take over completely. Zart had managed to follow and watched from the bottom of the stairs with interest. The building blocks to solving the puzzle were finally coming together. He had heard enough about Allen's story and seen plenty of things during his time here in the Glade to know that Allen had been through hell and back, there was no denying it. He had a million questions going through his head. There was one question inparticular forming on his tongue that he couldn't quite figure out yet. Zart watched as Allen squared her shoulders and twisted his neck to one side to crack it before opening the door in to the infirmary.

Allen put a hand on the doorknob and pushed it open. Inside were a collection of people. Clint and Jeff were surrounding Alby, who was sitting on the edge of his bed looking shaken. The new girl sat cross legged on her bed with Thomas hovering close by. Newt leaned up against the wall watching over the group.

When everyone noticed Allen the atmosphere changed. Newt pushed off the wall and crossed his arms, not entirely sure what to do with himself. Clint and Jeff rolled their eyes and stepped away from Alby, who seemed too lost in thought to pay attention to anyone, and the girl hopped off her bed, fist clenched, ready to fight again. Allen stepped in the room a few feet which gave Zart just enough room to sneak in.

"Thanks for gettin' him," Newt said to Zart, "Al," he nodded as a hello.

Allen looked over his shoulder and glared at Zart before turning back to face the group.

Without acknowledging Newt, he walked over to Alby. Allen hunched down in front of their once mighty leader and grabbed on to his face. Alby looked just like Gally had when he woke up. Confused as to where he was or where he had been. Allen shook Alby's face lightly, as if saying _'look at me.'_

He did, but not with the same strong and sure eyes Alby normally had. They were distant and dejected. Alby recognized Allen and opened his mouth to say something but an overwhelming amount of emotion washed over him. He dropped his head, still cradled in Allen's hands, and began to sob.

Allen wanted to drop Alby's face and step away from the crying boy. He stood frozen in position as Alby shed tears and gripped on to Allen's hands. All he wanted to do was scold the boy for being so emotional. Even the girl inside Allen agreed that Alby didn't need to be coddled, he just needed to be shaken out of it. He couldn't talk, not now, not after Zart. Allen looked around the room pleading for help but everyone else were preoccupied with their feet and pretending to not hear their leader's sobs.

Allen kept a tight grip on him and refocused Alby. Gally had done the same thing. Every shank that lived through the changing did the same thing; woke up, stared off in to space, was brought back around, cried, said they remembered the past, got angry, then chose a new personality. There was no time for this. Allen took one of his hands away from Alby and swung it back before and landing it perfectly across Alby's cheek. The slap rang out in the room.

The boys in the room averted their eyes from Alby. Shuffling uncomfortably as he committed taboo in the male culture.

Allen brought his thumbs up Alby's cheeks and wiped away the tears for him.

Alby leaned in to the touch and let a shuttering breath out. "Allen," he said weakly, "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I'm so sorry."

There was no sense to it. Alby had done nothing wrong to Allen and his apologies fell on deaf ears. A feeble smile tried to comfort Alby. All Allen could do was shake his head, politely throwing away the conversation. Allen felt the boy's forehead for a temperature than looked at him and made sure Alby was watching when he pinched his own arm and tapped his forehead.

He moved for the next half an hour as if no one was there in the room with him. Grabbing a cloth and wetting it, fresh bandages on, antibiotics, a needle, thread, and a pair of scissors, Allen began to work over Alby. He cut off the old bloodied gauze to reveal a healing stab wound on his side. The black veins were nearly gone, only a few thin ones remained indicating that an infection had never set in. Allen sewed the cut closed now that it had time to breathe and release any toxins the Griever had shoved in to Alby. He put antibiotics on it before casually putting the ointment into his back pocket and re-bandaged it, then moved on to Alby's forehead. The stitches there were still holding perfectly, so Allen just washed up the gash where Minho had hit him unconscious and left it alone.

By the time he was done Alby had simmered down and just watched Allen move around with a blank expression. Numb to most of what was happening around him.

Allen thumped his chest three times with a closed fist, signaling the end of his work. Clint and Jeff were leaning up against the counter top on the far side throwing mean looks at Allen as he took a seat next to Alby and began a longer series of hand signals.

He held his hand flat first before moving it across an invisible table top then took two fingers and pointed them at Alby's eyes and finished by taking his free hand and holding three fingers over his own lips. Allen was asking him what he remembered from being stung. They always remembered something.

Alby didn't look away from Allen this time. "Bits and pieces," he said with a frail voice, "I need to talk to Thomas, but Allen I gotta tell you -,"

Allen moved away from Alby and nodded at Thomas to come over. He moved to the side of the room, opposite of Teresa, with a fair distance between Clint, Jeff, and Newt. Zart had been watching her take care of Alby in an unmoving silence. When Allen retreated to the side of the room he absent-mindedly moved to stand next to her, receiving only a scowl.

"Could you look at Teresa too?" Thomas asked politely before taking a seat next to Alby.

Allen was confused for a moment as to why Thomas was looking at him when he asked the question. He nodded over to Clint and Jeff who seemed more than eager to fulfill the request.

"No offense," Thomas said to the Med-Jacks without having to finish the statement. Everyone in the room could see they were too eager to touch a girl and Thomas clearly felt more comfortable asking Allen, who showed no interest at all, to look at Teresa.

Allen shook his head, _no_. Teresa seemed to be pleased with how unwilling Allen was to be near her. She nodded her head in support for Allen's decision.

Thomas looked over his shoulder at her, "you said your head hurt."

"I'm fine, Thomas. Just groggy."

Thomas looked to Allen for any sort of indication that Teresa wasn't ok, but the Allen simply shrugged. He had done enough favors for Thomas already. Touching his girlfriend wasn't going to be next. Allen thumped his chest before crossing his arms.

"What's that mean?" Teresa asked, "Why doesn't he talk?" She looked directly at Allen when she spoke, almost challenging him to rebuttal.

"It means you're fine,"

Allen smirked, he was right when he assumed that Thomas was smart. Usually it took people ages to pick up his hand signals.

Thomas dropped the conversation and sat next to Alby to discuss what he had dreamed about. He had seen Thomas, Alby claimed. He knew Thomas from before. _From the past_. Alby's tone was so absolute that no one could doubt what he was saying.

"You gotta do it, Thomas." Alby said, "You're the one that's gonna get us out of here."

Allen leaned against the wall, ready to hear more about Alby's testimony, when the door to the infirmary flew open and startled everyone.

"The Maze!" Minho exclaimed suddenly. He heaved in a deep gulp of air from running over, "It ain't closin'."

* * *

 **B.T.**

Greg was the one that pulled Allen away. His feet, shins, and hands were stained with George's blood. Smears of red on Allen's shirt and face were from him trying to wipe off his hands or push his hair out of his eyes. He was in shock. All of them were.

"Come on, Al'," Greg nudged his twin. When he didn't move away from George's body, Greg took both hands and gracefully hoisted Allen up like a child and away from the boy. He didn't put up a fight. As Greg pulled him further from the body the better Allen began to understand what had happened. First he acknowledged that George's lower half was missing, then he was able to accept the blood still oozing out and across the Glade. The further Greg took him away from George the more he was able to accept his death.

George was dead and she was covered in his blood.

Allen planted her feet and bent over, vomiting what little food she had in her stomach.

"You're alright." Greg tried to soothe her. "I'll get you cleaned up." He patted her back and brought both of them to stand next to the rest of the Gladers for a moment.

Alby had an expression of pure agony written all over his face. His arms hung limp by his side in disbelief. He was processing what had just happened. So was Minho. With the rope still loosely held in his hand, Minho's subconscious was able to understand what had happened faster than his waking mind and small tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks. Gally stood dumbstruck, his mouth slightly agape.

"Allen and I will be by the showers." Greg said simply. In all of this, he was the only one who was able to function. No one responded in any way to Greg's statement. He was happy that he had an excuse to remove themselves from the scene.

Greg had tucked a shoulder under one of Allen's arms to help her stand. The twins began to move as one. He had to drag her a times, but when Allen's feet did work, they stepped in time with each other.

 _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot._

Her head lulled to one side as she tried to figure out just exactly how George had died. The 'swoosh' sound hadn't happened yesterday. It dawned on Allen very slowly that whatever killed George hadn't been there during their trial run. _It could have been an animal_ , she supposed, _but the cut wouldn't have been so clean. It would have looked like bite or claw marks if it was an animal._ _No, it was a blade and a large blade at that._

Allen lifted her head to look up at Greg. His face was set in stone as he marched them closer and closer to the wash area. "They're watching us," she whispered to him.

Greg glanced back at her, "I know. Minho and I, we-," he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. "We've been seeing these rats or somethin' more and more in the Maze. They have cameras for eyes."

The twins couldn't read each other's minds, but they were able to understand the direction in which they were going to speak occasionally. Greg knew his twin wasn't crazy and wasn't worried telling Allen about the rats with camera eyes either. The twins were one in the same. He knew what she was going to say and she knew how he would react.

"They killed George," she started, "they -,"

"-built whatever was down there last night so we couldn't go any lower."

"We have to tell Alby."

Greg took a deep breath and came to a stop right outside the showers. "That's not going to do any good, not now, anyways." He reached in to the closest stall and turned on the faucet. "That's not the way out, now we know. Let's leave it at that until things settle down."

The twins fell silent as Allen undressed and got into the shower. The water ran red as it washed off her body and down into the drain. She stared blankly at the poorly propped up privacy wall, too caught up in the event to pay attention. Greg's hand reached in around the corner after a few minutes and shut the water off for her.

Allen wiped the water from her body and began to meticulously rewrap her chest bindings with the same ropes and cloth that she had used before. She noted that the skin had become enflamed and seemed to swell after being exposed to the air. They would have to address the issue at a later date.

She stepped out from around the corner fully dressed and clean.

"You going to be ok?"

Allen gave a wide-eyed look up at her brother. "I think it's Alby that we'll need to worry about first."

The twins made there way back to the center of the Glade where little had been accomplished. Alby had stepped forward and managed to unknot the rope around George's torso but that seemed to be it. Blood stuck to the bottom and sides of his shoes.

Greg waited a moment to be addressed, just so Alby knew that he wasn't trying to overstep any boundaries of authority, but when nothing came from their new leader's mouth, Greg took initiative. "We should bury him." He said simply.

Minho glanced at Greg acknowledging his words but offered no response.

Alby turned from where he stood a few feet away from George's body. "Where?"

He sighed, "we could do it next to the Homestead?"

Gally flinched at the idea, "I ain't sleepin' next to bones." The response came off callous, but everyone seemed agreed with him. Even Allen didn't want to sleep so close to George's grave.

"I don't know, over there?" Greg pointed out toward the center of the Glade which would later be filled with hammocks and mats for boys to sleep on.

Alby shook his head, not liking the idea of George being so visible after death. He didn't want to look his best friends resting place every day and be reminded of this mistake. "We'll bury him in the trees. Make him a real nice headstone and carve his name in."

The decision was final without any discussion. Alby squared his shoulders and slowly started to come back to himself. "Minho, you and Gally take the Greenie to the woods and start diggin' the hole. Needs to be deep." He swallowed a lump in the back of his dry throat. "Greg, Allen and I are going to bring George over."

Minho rolled his head back, silently preying that this ends quickly, then turned and left the group to find shovels. Allen had never seen him so quiet.

Gally would have followed if he wasn't preoccupied with finding Newt. "Where is that shuck-face?"

Welcoming the distraction Alby, Gally, Greg, and Allen all noticed that the Greenie was in fact missing. "He was here, wasn't he?" Alby asked, double checking to make sure.

"Yeah, he was next to me the whole time." Gally replied. "Piece of klunk must've run off when we pulled George up."

Allen nudged Greg in the arm. Gally was going to take his frustration out on the new kid if one of them didn't step in soon. Greg picked up on the warning and took lead. "I'll go find him. Al' and you will be able to take George over on your own, Alby. I'll bring the Greenie to the woods."

The fire that was beginning to burn behind Gally's eyes simmered quickly. He nodded his head and left to follow Minho.

Greg left Allen with Alby and headed off to find the Greenie. There weren't many places to hide here and with the Maze walls having closed half an hour ago, he doubted that Newt had been able to make it out of the Glade. The nearest landmark was the Homestead, so Greg started there.

As Greg walked he thought about the Glade. In a weird depressing way, Greg liked it here. Allen was safe and he and Minho got along well. There weren't any of the doctors he could remember and being able to run in the Maze during the day was one of the most freeing experiences he's ever had – even if they were all trapped here. The grass was green. You could sleep out under the sky if you wanted. There was food and water and plenty of room to roam. A few tears escaped Greg's eyes as he got closer to the Homestead. It wouldn't be the same here without George. But what Greg was truly upset about was knowing that George would never be able to get out of here. He knew nothing but this Maze and he would never know anything else. Greg wiped his eyes aggressively trying to push down the thought. The Glade wasn't an awful place to be in, but it would a horrible place to die.

As he crossed the threshold in to the Homestead, Greg cleared his throat and searched for the Greenie. He looked upstairs and downstairs, out back and behind the wood stock piles. When there were no signs of him, Greg went to the Kitchen. It was a small shack with a few stoves and counter space on all four walls. He pushed the door open and immediately saw the Greenie huddled in the corner on the ground. The kid had his head buried in his knees.

"Hey -," Greg said softly.

Newt brought his head up calmly and gazed back. A shiver ran down Greg's back and goosebumps rose on his arms. The Greenie's eyes were dead and void of all emotion. There was no color left in his face and the look he was giving just felt _vacant._

"We're never getting out of here, are we?" His voice matched his eyes. Dead. All hope that had flared up inside of Newt when he had learned about a possible escape plan had burst into flames and shattered all possibilities. He would be stuck here for the rest of his life, he just knew it. A desperation ached in Newt's belly to get out and find whoever it was that he was missing, but now that there was no way out, that desperation would eat him alive.

Greg was spooked just looking at him. He wanted to say something to calm Newt, but it felt like he was face to face with an cornered dog. Instead of stepping in to help the Greenie, Greg stepped backwards out of the kitchen and let the door close.

* * *

 **Two weeks in a row!**

 **Three more Chapters!**

 **I can do it!**

 **All of your comments, follows and favorites have reminded me that I need to finish this so thank you. I'm glad everyone enjoys Allen as much as I enjoy writing her story.**


	11. Chapter 11

Minho was out of breath and looking frantic. Everyone stared back at him in disbelief, the beginning of a small laugh even started to form on Jeff's lips thinking that the Runner was joking. Allen looked from Minho to Newt then back to Minho.

He knew Minho best and if Minho could say something like that without breaking out in to a fit of laughter, then it must be true. Allen peeled himself off the wall and away from Zart to look out the small foggy window in the room. There was a clear view of the south wall from the Homestead. A few of the other Gladers huddled behind to look too, Thomas and Tereasa pressing in close not caring about the perception of Allen that the rest of the Glade adhered to.

There it was, plain as day. The south wall remained open with no signs of closing. Allen pushed in to look at the east and west entry points out of the far corners of the window. They were open too.

"Let's go." Thomas said urgently, stepping in to his rightful place as the protagonist that the Gladers had all sensed on him. Allen watched as him and Tereasa marched form the room with a look of determination. Minho stepped to the side and let them lead the way, Jeff and Clint hot on their heels to make sure they don't miss any action.

Left in the room was Alby, Newt, Minho, Allen, and of course Zart – eyeing Allen with caution.

"Newt I need to talk to you about something-," Zart said.

Allen stepped forward and spit at Zart's feet. He had no right to out their secret or whatever version of their secret he thinks he had figured out.

The aggressive action took the entire room by surprise, even Alby seemed shocked. "What the shuck was that for, Al'?" Minho interjected alarmed, he looked to Zart next. "Whatever you got to tell Newt, you'll have to wait. Got other klunk to worry about right now."

Minho turned and left the room, giving Allen a confused and disappointed look before leaving. An expression that very clearly said, 'we'll talk later.'

"I'm comin' too." Alby hoisted himself off the bed with unstable legs. Newt opened his mouth to argue but was cut off. "I ain't hearin' it. I'm comin' and that's not up for debate." He waited for Newt to respond and only got a clenched jaw nod of agreement. "Allen you're with me. Got somethin' to discuss with you on the way." Alby took a few steps toward Allen and put a heavy arm around the frail boy's shoulders to help support himself. Allen instinctively gripped on to the arm draping over him and grabbed Alby around the waist to keep him close.

"Zart why don't you go get the rest of the Gardner's and gather some of the tools you have, meet us by the South wall. Newt, go get Gally if he don't already know."

Allen took a much needed breath in when he realized that Alby was splitting the two up. No time to talk to Newt if Newt wasn't around. Allen caught sight of Zart looking uncomfortable, he wasn't used to being told what to do directly by Alby and didn't want to disobey him now. He gave Allen one last concerned look, a desperate one to Newt, then left the room.

"Go on," Alby said to Newt who was still lingering. "We'll meet you down there."

"I'll be with Minho, not Gally." Newt locked eyes with Alby directly. "Have to talk to him about a little mishap that happened a few days ago."

Alby nodded as Newt left the room. "Let's go, Al'. Don't want to miss anything."

The pair moved forward and made their way down the Homestead stairs in silence. It was slow going and difficult to not cave under Alby's weight. At this point, Allen couldn't have been more than 100 pounds which was easily half of Alby. He could almost hear his bones moan in protest from the added body weight.

"Al," Alby started as they left the Homestead and began to walk towards the South wall. "I just want you to listen to me, you understand?"

Allen looked up and saw that Alby was staring dead a head, already uncomfortable with the conversation to come. He tapped Alby's side twice with the hand that was holding on to his waist, acknowledging his request.

He took a deep breath in and cleared his throat. "Gally wasn't lyin' about the changin', none of them were. I had dreams too. They were so real, Allen. Like they happened yesterday. It's hard to put together but you were there and your brother, even George." Allen stared directly in front of them too, unsure where this conversation was going. A small stab of pain hit her chest when Alby mentioned that her brother was still alive somewhere – even in a dream world. "We were all in some sort of facility. Doctors and scientist, klunk poking out of our arms. It was awful. Thomas -," Alby cut himself off to think about where he was going with the story. "Thomas was there. He was talking to Greg about something and Greg was getting angry. I don't know what he said, but Greg almost punched him right in the face. When Thomas left Greg he came over to me. George was standin' right there with us. It was like Thomas knew who we would be here in the Glade. All he said to us was, 'watch out for her,' but not in a warning way, you know? Like he was telling us to protect someone."

Allen's stomach dropped. His lips pursed and his heart beat picked up.

"Didn't make any sense to me. Still kind of doesn't. But I have a feeling he wasn't talking about Teresa. That girl doesn't look like she needs much help. But you, Allen-," the pair was twenty feet behind the gossiping group of Gladers huddled around the South wall when Alby came to a full stop. He had always thought Allen was a little off. Too small to be a boy, especially when Greg had turned out so large. His reluctance to talk, his fuller lips, things that were over looked for the sake of ignoring a problem. "- you look like you need help." He lowered both his voice and his face so it came close to Allen's. "I'm going to ask you a question now, Al', and I want you to answer honestly-,"

Allen's heart was pumping wildly in her throat. All the blood rushed from her face and boiled in her stomach.

"Who knows what you are?"

Alby was smart. Maybe not book smart, but he sure as klunk wasn't dumb. He could catch a rabbit in the middle of the night just by listening to it. He could smell bullshit from a liar without the kid opening his mouth. Alby could figure out the best defensive plan for any enemy without even knowing who they were going to fight. He was a great leader and it showed in the question. Alby had already assumed that Allen wasn't a boy and knew his instincts were right. So instead of dwelling on the topic he jumped to the next command - 'watch out for her.'

Tears welled in Allen's eyes.

"Come on now, Al'. None of that. Tell me who knows you're a girl and I'll handle it."

"Gally," her voice came out like a puff of cold air.

Alby looked up and surveyed the crowd. Gally was standing in the middle of his Builders watching Newt and Minho talking. "Is that why he beats you up sometimes?"

"I don't know," Allen shuttered again, letting go of Alby for a moment to wipe her eyes. "I blame that on the changin'."

Alby clenched his jaw. Her voice didn't belong in that body or the Glade, it deserved something better. "Anyone else, Minho? Newt?"

Allen shook her head, "I think Zart found out earlier today, it's why we spit at him."

Alby rubbed his face with one hand while the other was still draped around Allen's shoulders. "Alright, I'll handle it. Let me go from here. I'll manage until I get to Zart. I'll find Gally after if Minho doesn't get to him first. Looks like you've got some fresh bruises on you and if either Newt or Minho have been paying any attention it means their already on it."

Allen felt Alby's arm slide off his shoulder, "you'll be ok, Allen. I promise."

He was left standing alone a few feet from the rest of the group to afraid to move. Things had been unraveling so fast that neither her or Allen could control it any longer. A cold breeze from the open Maze rolled out and over the Glade sending a shiver down Allen's back. Her death felt imminent. Whether it was in a physical form of being banished to the Maze or an emotional form of crippling depression, her light was going out and it was becoming harder to feed the flame. It was terrifying to face the realization that soon there would be nothing left of either twin. The only possible remaining variable would be Allen's shell walking around the Glade until it burns to the ground.

Terror became anger. She had not spent all this time here cooped up in a body she did not like just to die here. She did not promise Greg to remain quiet with the intentions of rolling over when the time came to save herself. She did not need Alby to fight her battles. She did not need the constant judgmental glares of boys that didn't understand her position. She was tired of constantly having decision being made for her. Who was Newt to tell others she wanted to be left alone? Who was Minho to get her out of this Maze or Alby taking care of her secret? Who was Gally to have the audacity to push her around just because she didn't like him romantically. She did not need any of this. She did not want any of this. She was tired, and beaten, and completely done with all of it. She refused to be the one to lose this war. If anyone was going to die in Glade, it was going to be Allen.

The longer she remained alone the more she felt uneasy. The sky had never fully darkened and settled in to a lifeless dark grey. Everything was stiff, like the electric had been shut off. Things were coming to a head and she had to be ready. Allen stepped back from the group and retreated towards the woods. In the Dead Heads Allen located the only thing that consistently kept her safe over the years. Her axe. Still firmly wedged into the ground where they had left it, Allen tore it from the earth and gripped it tight. There wasn't a game plan but Allen knew that she had to be out in the Glade with the rest of them, she just didn't want to be unarmed when klunk hits the fan.

A blood curdling shriek coming from inside the Maze echoed across the Glade.

Allen stopped, just as she was about to leave for the main group and listened.

An equally awful scream responded from further in the Maze.

She knew those cries. Years of listening to them during the night after everyone had gone to sleep never made it any easier to hear. Grievers.

Whirrrrrrrr, click click.

She turned slowly and squinted into the woods. Unable to make out any shapes because of the deep shadows, Allen stepped towards the noise with naïve curiosity. One foot landed lightly on a bed of twigs, making the faintest crunching noise as she tried turning to get a better look.

Something wasn't right.

Run, an urgent voice whispered in her mind.

Allen picked up the same foot she had just put forward and placed it behind herself and began taking baby steps backwards as quietly as possible. There was something watching her in the woods. She could feel its eyes on her through the trees.

She spun on her heels and started running full speed just as another, much closer, scream came from inside the woods. Branches and full trees began to snap behind her as a Griever moved to keep up with Allen. She leaped over dead trees, wedged through tight spaces, and dodged any obstacle that stood in her way from the most direct path out of the woods. Her side cramped on both sides of her rib cage and the wound from Gally's boot broke open once again, but she couldn't stop. Allen emerged into the Glade just in time to witness boys frantically running in every direction like lost ants.

In slow motion the Glade come to a stop as boys noticed Allen bursting from the trees with a Griever hot on his heels. Every Glader watched as the inches between Allen and the Griever decreased. She could see it on their faces. They were about to watch the first Glader be murdered by a Griever in plain sight.

Allen clenched her teeth together and remembered that anger that was just burning in her stomach to survive. No one was going to save her, she was going to have to save herself. She took a hard turn and ran for the fire pit. The flame was alive but just barely. She reached in and grabbed the largest piece of wood. The glowing branch burned in to Allen's hand as she pulled out a log and brandished it in front of the Griever that had been chasing her.

It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. A mixture of spider, animal, machine, and oil. Its sharp teeth too large for its small mouth held back a vicious smell of rotting flesh. Allen smashed the log against the Grievers head as it screamed once more and lunged in to bite her.

The hit made the creature coil back but then come forward once more with full force. Allen missed this time and hit one of the Griever's leg joints instead, doing little to no damage. For a split second she was convinced it was all over. So close to the end, she thought, and I die anyways.

But the oil leaking from the Griever caught the flame and it branched out over the monster, like a river of fire had been dumped on top of it. Allen was at a loss of what to do. She stood and watched the creature ignite as it screamed in pain. The heat from the oil fire was getting to be too much but Allen couldn't bring herself to move. She looked on as the Griever danced in agony, burning alive.

Someone grabbed hold of Allen's forearm and yanked her away. In surprise she finally dropped the burning branch, revealing a hand so destroyed that the skin and muscle tissue sizzled from the heat. Allen stumbled with the person who was dragging her until the shock of what just happened faded away.

Minho was there. A spear in one hand and Allen's forearm in the other.

Her legs started to work again and she began to run with Minho. He dragged them to the Homestead and burst in through the front door. Minho pushed Allen in front of him and up to the second level. He threw open a door, shoved Allen in, and closed it behind them. Minho must have already been here because he had chosen a room where all the key players were. From the corner of her eye she saw through the cracks of a hastily boarded up window and was just able to make out a pile of flame that was once a Griever. They had seen her standing there and Minho had risen to the challenge of saving her.

Allen turned to face him and was met with an expression of anger. "Don't leave my side." He muttered under his breath as he pushed passed Allen and towards the group.

Alby, Newt, Gally, Thomas, Teresa, Chuck, Winston, Frypan, Zart all of them faced the newest member. Allen examined each of their faces as if he had all the time in the world. Behind them were miscellaneous boys. Builders, Runners, Sloppers, even Rick and Roy had made their way into the room.

Yells could be heard from corners of the Glade as lost boys were found in their hiding spots. From what Allen could tell though, most of the Glade was here in the Homestead. Cowering behind the front liners – the leaders and keepers.

"What do we do?" Winston asked Alby.

But Alby didn't answer and instead looked to Thomas.

Thomas carried his machete firmly in one hand, ready for an attack, and surveyed the crowd. "It's safest here-,"

"That's your plan?!" Gally pushed past his Builders, "to wait here?" He laughed then rounded on Newt and the rest of the Keepers. "I told you this would happen, didn't I? I told you he was going to cause problems. We should have banished him while we had the chance! He did this! This is his fault!" Gally pointed his weapon at Thomas as he spoke.

Newt rallied a response, "Shut your mouth, Gally. Thomas didn't bring the Grievers in here. It ain't his fault the doors aren't closing."

"I don't know how he did it, but he did. I know it." Gally turned to his Builders who were nodding in agreement with their Keeper. "I say we throw him out, it's him the Grievers probably want. Not us!"

There was an enthusiastic cheer of support from a select few boys, mostly Builders and Sloppers.

"Shut it!" Teresa called suddenly ending the conversation, "listen." The whole room went in to a tense silence.

There was nothing. No distant cries from either boys or Grievers. The Glade was silent.

"Are they gone?" Teresa whispered to Thomas.

He looked down at her with so much affection it made Allen want to gag. Thomas removed his gaze from Teresa and went to the boarded-up window. Through the gaps between wooden planks Thomas peered out in the Glade. Taking small steps closer to get a better look. Newt moved with him, holding a spear like Minho's for protection.

With the rest of the Gladers Allen watched as the pair inched closer and closer to the window.

A tapping sound started at the ground floor of the homestead. You could hear the faint shuffling from boys hiding below as they moved to cower against the far wall.

Click Click Click. Pause.

Click Click Click. Pause.

The noise climbed higher.

Newt and Thomas moved away from the window and brought their weapons forward. Boys that had a weapon, whether it be knife, spear, machete, or an axe, mimicked Newt and Thomas's motion. Allen gripped her only line of physical defense tightly in one hand while the other hand one was curled up next to her chest, the pain beginning to sear through her nervous system.

Click Click Click. Pause.

Click Click Click. Pause.

The Griever was scaling the Homestead. Gladers backed as far away from the outside wall as possible smooshing in to a tight clump. Minho was stationed directly in front of Allen, body poised and ready to fight.

Click Click Click. Pause.

It stopped just to the left of the window. Allen could barely see the aged wooden wall over Minho's shoulder. No one breathed.

It knocked lightly on the wall, as if politely asking to come inside. But Allen knew what it was doing. She had done it a thousand times before when cutting down trees. The Griever was checking the density of the wall. The sturdiness of the wood. How easily it would break.

Allen knew what was going to happen just before the Griever smashed through the wood and stuck one long spiny pincher into the room, grabbing the first boy available. It snapped frantically, reaching for anyone but choosing Newt.

The Griever gripped Newt tight and started to pull him out, but before it could, an axe fell down on the smallest looking joint. The Griever let out a horrific cry and Allen swung again. Raising her axe high above her head with both hands and letting it drop down, severing the Grievers hold. The monster retracted back to the outside, leaving behind one mechanical limb still clinging to Newt's shirt.

He ripped it off like it still might drag him out and then looked to Allen. Newt wanted to say something but instead looked on in horror as Allen peeled his badly burned hand off the splintered axe shaft, leaving behind bits of skin, blood, and muscle on the woods.

There was a shriek from outside the window and the Griever sent in another arm. Allen lunged towards Newt, making both of them fall to the floor and out of the way as the monster reached for the next body behind them.

Rick let out a scream as Roy was pulled from his side and into the night sky.

* * *

 **B.T.**

They buried George in the shade of the trees. The boys had gotten a little carried away with the design of the headstone, but it seemed to fit George well. Feathers and vines had been woven around a massive stick throne to display the burial site. It was a grotesque affair digging the hole and bringing the body over. The blood that had originally pooled around George had congealed and stuck to the grass creating a suction effect when the boys tried to pull his body out from the middle. There was no way to avoid getting blood on you when they moved him. They all huddled around, minus the Greenie, and said their final goodbyes one by one – Greg taking two turns to speak on behalf of Allen.

Each Glader turned away individually, except for the twins who departed together, and mourned privately for a few hours.

Greg and Allen were in the middle of the Glade laying in the grass looking up at the perfect blue sky. They hadn't said anything to each other since the showers, and now that George was gone, Allen felt as if they had taken five steps back regarding sharing their secret. It was dawning on them that Allen would remain Allen in the Glade, especially if upheaval like George's death were becoming common occurrences. They laid side by side without speaking a single word, finding comfort in the simplicity of each other's presence.

Gally sat on the porch of the Homestead with his head leaning against the exterior wall and watched the chests of Greg and Allen fall. It felt hotter today than it normally did and he wondered if he should get Allen something to drink. But if he got Allen water he had to get Greg something too. The decision to act weighed heavily on Gally's mind with many other things. He had been trying to build up the nerve to ask George he could stay in the Glade permanently and work full time on the Homestead, barn, or his new idea for sleeping outside in hammocks. Now that George was gone he had to either drop the idea or bring it up with Alby. But what scared him the most was telling Allen. Gally was hoping that she would choose to stay with him in the Glade and build, but she wasn't very good at it and he knew she didn't like it. He was afraid of her saying no. No to him, no to his idea, no to his desire for spending more time with her. He was afraid of her, and it made the need in side of his belly all the stronger to get her. Before long Gally noticed that his breathing had synced up with the twins, with her, and it calmed him.

Minho was also watching the twins, but from the opposite side of the Glade under the trees. He stared blankly at their outlines as he thought of other things – mostly who would take charge of the Glade now. It was assumed that Alby would do it, but he wondered if there would be a vote. Pride was getting the better of him and he dreamed of the group rallying one day to make him leader. Not now, of course, but maybe one day. He and Greg would make a great team. Like Alby and George but only faster. Hope flickered inside Minho's chest as the image of him and Greg leading the way out of the Maze popped into his mind. But it faded quickly as he realized that George once had the same fantasy and it ended up killing him.

There was one last set of eyes watching the twins. Newt stood with his arms crossed leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. He had watched the Gladers trickle out from the trees and find their ways to secluded hiding spots. Newt had two very clear things running through his mind and they were this; he was jealous and therefore angry that Greg had Allen and that he no longer wanted any part of this sick game they called the Maze. There was no way out and they were all going to die here one way or another.

It took Alby finally coming out of the trees, brushing right past Minho, and walking towards the twins to bring together the group. Minho follows shortly behind Alby and once Gally saw the two moving, he picked himself up and met them in the middle of the Glade. The twins propped themselves up on their elbows to look at the group that had formed around them and decided to stand to meet everyone's gaze.

"Where's the Greenie?" Alby asked.

"In the kitchen," Greg nodded towards the building. "That's him eyein' us in the doorway."

The group shifted to look, "Ey!" Alby called out. "Get yourself over here, Newbie!"

Newt glared at the collection of boys and didn't move a muscle. Alby turned completely to face the Greenie. The demeanor that overtook him made the boys surrounding Alby a little frightened. "I will come over there and drag you out, Greenie."

Newt clenched his jaw in retaliation but pushed off from his spot and headed towards the group.

In that discussion Alby stated that things were going to change from here on out. From that day forward, every boy in the Glade would be a runner. No one was going to be left in the Glade during the day. The more people they had running, the more chances they had of figuring a way out. Originally Alby had everyone running by themselves, each taking a direction to cover more ground but after one day of that the entire group realized it wasn't going to work – particularly when it came to Newt and Allen.

The first day after George had died, Alby told everyone which door to go through and told them to be back early. Allen tried, he really did, but got lost in about thirty minutes. Greg knew it would happen, he had told Allen to stay put if he had got lost the night before, so he spent most of the day running through the Maze trying to find his twin rather than a way out. Newt on the other hand just simply walked about twenty feet into the Maze, stopped, and sat down against a wall.

The next day Alby paired everyone up. The twins would go together, Minho would run with Alby, and Gally would take Newt to show him the ropes. Things were better on the second day until Alby came back to the Glade after running and saw Newt and Gally rolling in the grass fighting each other. He had to tear them apart to figure out what the problem was. Apparently Newt didn't like Gally telling him what to do and Gally didn't like Newt not listening to him.

On the third day Alby let Minho and Gally run together so he could take the Greenie and keep an eye out on him. No one was super happy with the results. Minho wanted to run with Greg, Alby wanted to run alone, Gally didn't want to run but if he had to he'd prefer it to be with Allen, and Newt just didn't want to be around people. The only person who didn't seem to mind the change was Allen who was thoroughly enjoying being with his brother and "coincidentally" running in to Minho and Gally in the Maze.

Things were fine for a few weeks it seemed. Everyone ran in the Maze, the Greenie and Alby seemed to be getting a long better, and the horror of George's death was beginning to fade. There were of course small things wrong, but nothing that would lead to an argument. Allen hadn't said a word in nearly a month, which made Greg happy, but was starting to wear on Gally. He was getting tired of her dumb hand signals and tried multiple times to get her to talk when it was their turn to cook dinner. Minho's patience running with Gally was dwindling. He was klunky and slow and it made Minho slow, which he hated. The insults he hurled at Gally were getting less funny and more personal, which made the pair argue frequently. Even Greg joined in picking on Gally occasionally. The arguing was starting to give Alby headaches. The more Minho picked on Gally the less Alby wanted to be around him. He started to confide more in Newt and less in Greg and Minho, which resulted in Greg disliking Newt even more and even throwing attitude at Alby.

Allen was upset about two things, none of which were being done to him. He hated what was happening to the group. All Greg talked about these days was how much he hated the new kid, or how dumb Gally was, or how Alby was stupid for listening to anything Newt had to say. He and Minho were like gasoline and fire at the end of the day, burning with pent up frustration. Allen could tell Gally was getting annoyed too, because she wasn't verbally talking to him and no one liked being picked on constantly. Alby wasn't doing anything to help the situation, which pissed Allen off because there was clearly something wrong not just with the group as a whole but as individuals. None of them were happy, and it showed clearest on Newt.

Allen had tried to talk the Greenie a few times but he seemed uninterested in trying to understand his sign language. Instead Newt plastered on a fake smile and said whatever he assumed Allen wanted to hear. The act was enough to get Alby and the rest of the group to leave him alone, but Allen could see right through it. Two weeks after George's death the Greenie stopped eating and seemed to almost have a sickly sweet tone to his voice. It creeped Allen out and after asking Newt one night what he wanted to eat, and getting a response completely unrelated to the question, Allen almost wished for the angry Newt back. At least he seemed real.

The night before a new month started and a new boy arrived was quiet and tense. Allen shifted next to Greg unable to fall asleep. After a few minutes of being restless he got up and noticed that the fire had gone out. Since the entire group had been running during the day, their wood pile had completely diminished. In the darkness Allen found the axe near the base of a tree and a pile of branches that had been chopped off a few weeks ago. He grabbed one, dragged it further into the woods so the noise wouldn't disturb anyone and began to break the branch into smaller pieces. Three branches and an hour later, Allen let the axe drop to the ground and bent backwards with his hands on his hips to stretch out his back.

"Need help?"

Allen took a sharp breath in from surprise and let a hand jump to his chest.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Gally stepped out from the shadows so Allen could see his silhouette. "I heard you get up and thought you were goin' to use the pot, but then you never came back." He came forward and started to pick up wood to help Allen carry it to the fire pit.

Allen tried to signal a thank you but was met with a quick mark. "We're literally in the woods at night, Al', I can't see what you're sayin'." The tone Gally used wasn't rude but it was definitely frustrated. Allen rolled his eyes and picked up the remaining cuts of wood. Together they went back to the pit and brought the fire back to life. "You're good at that," muttered Gally.

She turned to him and scrunched up her eyebrows.

"At making the fire. Takes everyone else here half an hour to get goin'."

Gally, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was getting better at picking up on Allen's body language and hand signals. He knew exactly what she was saying in the woods, and he knew exactly what that face meant, he just didn't like it. He missed hearing her voice.

Allen took a seat next to the fire, leaning back on her hands with her legs extended not feeling tired at all. Gally followed shortly after, realizing that this was one of the now rare moments when they could be alone.

After a moment of silence, Gally sighed and settled on having a one-sided conversation. Minho only ever responded to him with nasty comments and he no longer cared if Allen wouldn't respond to him, he just wanted to talk to someone without being put down. "Find anything interesting in the Maze?" He whispered, hoping no one would wake up.

Allen shook her head. They never found anything interesting in the Maze. Then she nodded back to Gally, who shook his head too. "Minho likes to leave me behind. Don't tell Ably though, we'll both get in trouble."

Part of her wanted to be alarmed but Greg had mentioned it before. If Alby did find out Minho would get in trouble for leaving Gally behind and Gally would get in trouble for being slow. Allen turned to face Gally and in the light of the fire tried to give a supportive smile.

He looked at her, attempted to return the gesture but quickly dropped his gaze and began to pull at the grass. "It's not fun anymore," he muttered sadly. "I know it's not supposed to be fun, but when it was just us in the Glade at least we got along."

She agreed and gave a sad sigh to show it. Running day in and day out with Greg was exhausting and she hated how he could practically read her mind, creating arguments with someone that wasn't even talking. Allen dropped down to her elbows and then laid completely flat on her back to look up at the night sky. Gally looked down at her and saw only perfection. He followed suit and laid next to her in the grass, their feet on a few inches from the fire ring.

"It'll be ok, right?" His eyes never left her face as she turned to face his.

Allen tried to figure out the right thing to mime. She rolled her head back so she could stare back into the night sky and very calmly reached over to hold Gally's hand.

* * *

 **Sorry, if you got two emails its because I messed up the original submission and had to delete it / resubmit it. If there is something wrong that I missed please let me know so I can resubmit it again ASAP!**

 **Anyways! I haven't posted in a few weeks because my work moved me in to a cubicle with my back to the entire office and I wasn't able to write/edit in my down time.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Alison**


	12. Chapter 12

**It's been a pleasure writing for all of you and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. The chances of me carrying this on are slim but I'm glad that I could finish both this chapter in my life and story for all of you.**

 **Buckle up folks, this is a long one.**

 **Alison**

* * *

Allen used what little body weight she had left to keep Newt down. Bits of dirt from the floor was sucked in to the goop that was running from Allen's burned hand. All of the blood vessels, veins, and arteries had been permanently cauterized leaving her injury bloodless. What Allen's body did in attempt to heal the area instead was release a clear slime that coated the outside of the burn. In that slime, pieces of wood, dirt, grass, and dust were steadily collecting.

It hurt, but Allen bit her tongue and carried on. She got off Newt and then slunk to the back of the group to hide behind Minho. Allen didn't want to look at her hand directly and see the true damage, she knew it was bad just by the building pain. Newt hoisted himself off the floor and looked a little desperate to say his thanks. Unfortunately Rick was in hysterics at the loss of his friend and took all the air from the room to fill his lungs and scream in anger.

It took the rest of the Builders to get him under control. A full half hour passed of waiting before Thomas finally spoke, "let's go down." He and Tereasa led the way out of the Homestead.

Allen took a step forward when Minho began to move but stopped suddenly and closed her eyes to try and stop the world from spinning around her. It was that feeling you get when you stand up too fast and your vision begins to fade. She could feel her whole body sway and opened her eyes to steady herself. Swallowing what little spit she had in her mouth, Allen started again and followed everyone down to the Glade.

Thomas and Newt walked around to each body, identifying their lost comrades, trying to get an accurate death count. Alby, Zart, and Gally had parted from the group with their own intentions of finding lost boys and helping the injured. Minho stood next to Allen, one hand still firmly gripping the spear, and together they watched as Thomas found a Griever's stinger and stabbed himself in the thigh with venom. There was a commotion and a frantic scramble to catch Thomas as he collapsed. Allen was a dazed as the motions seemed to register a few seconds behind reality. Nothing made sense, nothing seemed real.

Allen watched on as Jeff, since Clint couldn't be found, dragged Thomas with Newt's help back to the homestead. Chuck and Tereasa hurried behind them. There was no definitive proof, but Allen felt like he was floating far away. Watching the events unfold like a spectator in a movie theater. Someone beckoned Allen to follow, so she did. She turned towards the voice knowing that if she got left behind now, she wouldn't stand a chance. She had no sense of self - _of reality_. The world was in motion around him, and Allen was just along for the ride. She floated, fever starting to rage across her body. She was a shadow. And things just kept happening.

Not until she was more than half way to the Homestead did Allen come to terms with what was happening. The shock and adrenaline from the burn was most likely wearing off, and the exposed tissue was getting infected. She had still refused to look at their hand, knowing that putting an image to the pain would only make it worse. Allen's hand remained close to their chest as she walked a fair distance behind the main group not realizing that Minho was standing right next to her. He watched Allen clench his jaw and wince. Minho tried to get a look at the injury without being obvious, but the hand was curled safely into Allen's chest out of sight. There were occasional intense aches of pain that radiated all the way up her hand, through her arm, and throbbed in their chest. Some of the aches were so intense Allen had to stop and hold on to something to keep their footing before carrying on. The whole world would go in and out of a fuzzy grey static landscape.

By the time Allen and Minho reached the infirmary, Thomas had been laid out and Jeff needed her assistance. Thomas was acting how all boys did when bitten by a Griever. Thrashing about in a mad frenzy, sweating, muscles flexed in distress.

Jeff and Newt were trying to hold him down. "Get the serum, Allen!" Jeff yelled.

Obeying the command Allen clumsily lurched for the cabinet where everything was stored and pulled out one of the last remaining vials of purple liquid. He had to grip it tight in his good hand and stepped carefully as he walked. Continuously having to close and open his eyes to keep his vision straight, Allen hovered over Thomas and took a long time locating the exact spot where he had stabbed himself. Finding it, he gave his head a light shake and squinted down as if the wound was a million miles away.

Small beads of sweat started to break out across Allen's forehead as he injected Thomas with the serum and the boy's body went rigid. The vial dropped to the floor, cracking as it rolled off under one of the beds. "What's wrong with you shuck-face?" Jeff sneered, pushing Allen out of the way. "Never seen blood before?"

Allen stumbled back a bit and knocked into a counter. His hands shook lightly, as the good one desperately searched for something to keep him standing.

Each one of them was focused on Thomas, even Minho had abandoned Allen for a moment. They huddled around Thomas like pigeons on a loaf of bread. It was becoming difficult to breath and their heart was beating faster and heavier than normal – making an unsettling echo of _'ga_ - _glump ga-glump ga-glump'_ in their ears. She began to take extremely labored short, choppy breaths forcing air in and out of her lungs.

A groan escaped Allen's lips as another tremor of pain shot up her arm and vibrated deep in their chest.

Newt heard it and flicked his eyes over to Allen, "you alright, Al?"

He responded with a halfhearted wave of the hand before turning her back on Newt and wiped the sweat off her face. Knowing that she couldn't avoid facing the damage any longer, Allen pulled the burned hand away from their chest and looked down at it with what little light was left in the Glade.

She whimpered, and quickly folded her hand back in. Allen's hand was ruined. Her good hand kept them glued against the counter top, but seeing her own charred flesh made Allen feel nauseas. She swayed on the balls of her feet. Trying to choke down a bit of vomit that had lodged itself in her throat.

"Allen?" Newt's voice came a bit closer this time. But the noise swirled around Allen's head like a strong perfume.

The world started to spin. She closed her eyes and opened them, trying to focus on the situation – _on Thomas, like everyone else_. Dark browns from the walls, deep greys from the shadows, and small specks of bright color from miscellaneous objects started to blur together. Allen shook her head. Noises from the conversation about Thomas became one big mushed up high-pitched hum. A jab of pain shot from her hand up her arm and into their chest _again_ , and _again,_ _and again_. She let out a restrained cried and cradled the burnt appendage.

Her legs vanished. Allen could feel the splintered wood floor on the skin of her knees. Through foggy vision Allen watched as movement surrounded her. Voices got louder, and just before completely blacking out, she felt a set of sturdy hands break her fall.

Newt was the first one to reach Allen just as he was about to go limp. Newt grabbed on to Allen's side, hugging him awkwardly, and helped him sink to the ground safely. It was physically close, even for two boys, but Newt seemed to always find himself in compromising positions with Allen. His head rested on Newt's shoulders, while they both were positioned on their knees - one trying to support the other.

"Allen?" Newt asked urgently, "You alright? You gotta say something." But when no response came, Newt grew more worried than he already was. "Minho, come help -," before Newt could finish the request, several sets of hands came to his aid. Zart and Minho were already there, grabbing at Allen and hoisting him up.

Together they managed to get Allen on to the empty bed besides Thomas.

"What kind of good was he back in the day if he can't even stand the sight of blood?" Jeff mumbled, barely taking the time to look away from Thomas.

Minho shot him a dirty look, "he ain't afraid of blood, you slinthead. Look at his hand."

Intrigued by what Minho was talking about, Zart reached down and lightly grabbed Allen's wrist to turn over the arm he had clearly been favoring.

He dropped it immediately and gagged. "How did Al' do that? Is that _bone?"_

"Didn't you see it?" Minho said, catching site of Allen's hand and wincing, "the shank lit a Griever on fire." He reached down and repositioned Allen's hand so the full injury could be seen.

Jeff stopped fussing over Thomas and joined the group. He examined the burn, a little less delicately than he would have if it was someone he cared for, and then reached for a brown bottle and a pair of tweezers. "It's not bone, that's wood. Probably from his axe." Jeff pried out a splinter as long as his pinky finger and let it drop to the floor. He then opened up the brown bottle and poured a bubbly clear liquid all over Allen's hand.

Allen's fingers twitched and he tried to pull his hand away subconsciously. Jeff grabbed hold of his wrist and kept it still as he poured on more disinfectant. A whimper escaped from Allen.

"What're you doing?" Minho asked, taking a step forward.

"Cleanin' it." Jeff shot back, sensing Minho's animosity. "He's probably already got a shucking infection. With how dirty he is it'd be impossible not to." He let go of Allen and went back over to Thomas, "If Clint were here, he'd cut the damn thing off. Save Allen some torture."

Teresa left Allen's side too, more than grossed out, while Minho and Newt hovered a bit longer. "You're not going to cut it off, though, right?" Minho asked, looking to Jeff just in time to see him shaking his head 'no.'

"The shucking thing'll be useless, just wait 'n see. But I'm not cuttin' off people's hands without Clint. It'll heal." The Medjack occupied himself by cleaning Thomas's wound.

The two boys didn't ask any more questions but looked down at Allen a bit longer. They began to talk in hushed tones to keep their conversation private. "What the hell happened to him?" Asked Minho to Newt.

"I already told you, Gally got to him again."

Minho shook his head, "I know that, but look at him. Al's nothin' but bones and bruises at this point."

"I don't think he's been eating," mumbled Newt.

Minho shook his head, internally cursing at himself. "What're we gonna do?" He whispered.

Newt crossed his arms and gave a shrug, guilt flooding over him too.

Minho reached down and felt Allen's forehead where a temperature was burning fiercely.

Jeff had finished taking care of Thomas and left to go hunt for Clint and any other injured Gladers. Leaving behind Teresa, Minho and Newt to watch after Thomas and Allen.

Teresa was hesitant at first, not feeling entirely comfortable with the two of them sitting right there, but eventually laid in bed next to Thomas. Her head finding the perfect nook on his shoulder to rest in. Teresa closed her eyes and listened to Thomas's heart beat as it lulled her to sleep.

Newt noticed Teresa's feelings for Thomas and felt a dull sensation of jealousy. Wanting to be touched by girls, or hold them, or protect them never occurred to him here – not since his accident. But that was a different kind of emotion, a brotherly protection, not like the one Teresa was showing Thomas. Girls were so far out of his mind that it wasn't until Teresa showed up that Newt wished he had one to call his own. Knowing that he belonged on neither bed, Newt pulled up a chair between the two and waited. One with his best friend, and the other with a boy who he owed his life to – _twice._ Minho sat on the counter top with arms resting on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. All they could do was wait.

As the hours ticked by Jeff came and went with injured boys, sometimes running in and out with supplies. A little bit more blood appearing on his shirt each time.

It was early morning, before the sun would have come up, when Alby walked into the infirmary with Chuck and Gally. Everyone looked half dead. Dark bags circled their eyes from exhaustion.

"How's Thomas?" Chuck chirped, startling Tereasa slightly.

She awkwardly rolled off the bed realizing they had company and rubbed her face to try and wake up. "He's fine. Jeff checks him out every time he comes in. He's been twitching a lot, but they've been saying it's normal." Tereasa looked at Newt and Minho for more confirmation, which they gave with a simple nod.

Chuck bit his lip, "I hope he wakes up soon."

"Tereasa can you take Chuck down and find Zart, tell him to come up here?" Alby crossed his arms.

She wasn't ignorant to social cues and knew that Alby was asking her to leave the room so they could talk privately. "Anything you've got to say about a plan or Thomas should include me."

"And I agree," Alby responded, igniting a disagreeing huff from Gally. "But we're not going to discuss Thomas or a plan, there's a private matter amongst us that needs to be dealt with. If I could ask Thomas to leave, I would."

"And Zart?" Tereasa asked trying to maintain equality in the group.

"Is very much so a part of this. But not all of the Keepers are, so I would appreciate it if you just told him that we are waiting for him in the Homestead." Alby was still a little pale from his recovery process. He was too tired to lie anymore or think of alternate reason to ask Tereasa to leave. The truth would have to do.

She gave the remaining boys a suspicious look, "come on, Chuck."

He pouted for only a moment before leaving with Tereasa.

Alby took a deep breath in, "What about Allen?"

"Hasn't moved a muscle." Newt responded.

"What happened to him?" Gally asked, crossing his arms.

"Like you don't know," Minho spit, "You're half the shucking reason he's in that bed." Gally was about to shoot back a remark but Minho kept going, "it's not Thomas we should be talking about throwing out, Gally. It's you. You've been beatin' on Allen since your shuckin' changing and I don't care who's fault it is. Look at him!" Minho hopped off the counter and pointed at Allen. "What'd he do to deserve that?"

Gally reddened in the face. He had been confronted by Minho before, but only physically. "We all know shucking well what he did to me." His voice was laced with poison. "And then he goes and sides with the Greenie, rubbing it all in my face."

Minho marched over to Gally and stood only inches away from his face. "I sided with Thomas too, you gonna hit me?"

"Stop it." Alby cut in.

"No, I ain't gonna stop it. Look at him for shuck sake, Alby -!" Minho gestured again at Allen.

"I see him!" He yelled back.

Silence rang in the room.

Alby dropped his head for a moment before turning to Gally. His expression was dark. "This ends now, Gally." Alby spoke as if they were the only two in the room. "Allen isn't your private punching bag and if I see you near him again I'll feed you to a Griever myself. Whatever happened in the past should be left there. No one was there that day you got stung, so I can't speak to it. But Allen used to be your friend and this ain't right. You leave him alone, good that?"

Gally's expression deflated and for a brief moment the awkward lanky kid that used to be Gally reappeared. Alby saw his eyes become lighter and his defenses go down. Gally looked at Allen laying on the bed and couldn't quite comprehend how it had gotten this bad. For a second he felt bad, but then he remembered what happened in the woods the day he was stung and anger clouded back over. "Whatever." He hissed at Alby before storming out of the room.

Newt had joined the tight circle and was standing close to Minho. "That's it? That's all you're gonna say to him?"

Alby shook his head, "I have a feeling we won't be here much longer anyways." It was an observation that most of the Gladers had made by now but hadn't verbally admitted to. Hearing Alby say it seemed to solidify their hopes.

"What's the plan?" Newt asked, more ready to start the final leg of this sick game.

"We gather up who's left and start to figure the way out."

"Alby, Thomas was on to something the other day." Minho cut in, branching off of the subject. "When he and I got stuck in the Maze he killed a Griever and the next day we went back to check it out. The shucking thing had a number and a beacon thing on it. We were thinking the number represents a part of the Maze…" Minho let the information hang in the air so Alby could digest it.

Like any great leader though, he swallowed the news and accepted it as truth because it came from someone he believed in. "So what's next then?"

Minho looked to Newt for help, uncertain of his thoughts. "I mean, Thomas is gonna wake up eventually. But until then I think we should get everyone ready to leave. The Grievers are still out there, so weapons would be smart incase they come back."

Zart came in to the room then. He stood timidly by the door, unsure what role he had to play here.

Alby looked to him and then back at Newt and Minho, "start there," he said, "and then the instant Thomas wakes up I want to start forming a plan to get out." They both nodded, taking their dismissal and worked their way out of the room. "Zart come here and close the door."

Minho threw a glance over his shoulder just as Zart turned and swung the door close. He could feel it in his gut that it had to do with Allen, but he couldn't be certain.

Instead of taking the strong willed and steadfast leader stance, Alby rolled his shoulders down and sat on the foot of Allen's bed. He was defeated and tired and it felt like the few days he'd been out had been a decade. So much had happened to so many of his people. "I had a conversation with Allen before any of this happened," he waved his hand haphazardly in the air, took a deep breath, and looked up at Zart. "How much do you think you know?"

Zart rocked back and forth on his heels. "I didn't do anything, Alby." He felt like a kid in trouble. "I've just been sent out to get him a couple times, that's all. Whatever he said I didn't do it. I don't know what I did to make him dislike me so much, I swear."

Alby shook his head. "It's not about what you _did,_ Zart. It's about what you _know."_

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and began to anxiously scratch his neck. "I don't know anything, Alby I swear."

"Really, because she says you do."

The simple change in phrasing felt like a bomb. The puzzle finally came together. Zart stopped fidgeting and looked Alby in the eye. "I-,"

Alby held up his hand. "There's no need to explain it. Allen got sloppy with keeping things to herself and that's her own fault. But I have to ask you, and I want nothing but the truth-," he waited until Zart nodded in understanding, "does anyone else know?"

"No." Zart answered so quickly it could only be the truth. "I barely knew. It's not like Allen confirmed it for me or anything. No one else knows."

"Newt and Minho?"

Zart opened his mouth, thinking of saying one thing, but then closed it when the names sunk in. "They – they don't know, I thought it anyone did they would be the ones."

Alby heaved a sigh of relief. "No, they don't. I didn't even know until after I woke up yesterday." He took a moment to find the right words. "Let's keep it between us, good that? No one else needs any more stress right now and I don't think Allen would appreciate us outing her while she's-," Alby paused to look at her, "not all here."

Zart took a moment to look at Allen too and then nodded in agreement.

"Good."

Things moved quickly once Thomas woke up several hours later. You were either with Thomas or against him. While Minho and Thomas ran in to the Maze to search for the exit one last time, Teresa and Chuck stayed in the map room trying to decipher the code hidden in the maps, and Newt went between rallying the troops, with Alby's assistance, and helping Teresa. They worked from what would have been sun up until what would have been sun down. But the grey overcast left an urgency in the Glade like never before. Fear of more Grievers coming for another night of pillaging grew larger with every passing minute.

When Minho and Thomas returned in the late afternoon, sweaty and fatigued, Teresa, Newt, and Chuck had solved the puzzle and were ready to share their findings. Together, the group created their plan and summoned the troops of boys who would go with them.

Their weapons were ready. Being held together by nothing but courage and blind faith, everyone was prepared to move out and risk their lives in the Maze. But Newt had to get one more thing before they left.

"Let's get Allen." He said, waving for Jeff to come over.

"He's not up yet?" Thomas said in disbelief. They didn't have time to linger.

"No," Newt answered without entertaining the idea of not bringing Allen with. "Minho, Thomas, Teresa, Jeff, come on. If anyone else wants to help let's get goin', the rest of you shanks wait here with Alby and don't go gettin' cold feet." He jogged off with a limp in his leg, knowing that the rest of his friends would follow.

Back in the homestead Allen lay alone in a cold sweat, shivering. His skin was gleaming from the perspiration, and a nasty green and yellow stain had started to ooze into the fibers of his shirt where his hand laid on top of his stomach.

Jeff walked over and pulled back Allen's eyelids one at a time, "Wake up, Al'." He said, trying to watch the boy's pupils. "Wake up." Jeff said again, grabbing his chin and shaking it. Giving up quickly, he turned to Newt and said, "He's a lost cause, let's get out of here."

Newt shook his head, "I ain't leaving without him." Stepping over to Allen myself, Newt began to try and wake him too. "Allen? Allen you need to wake up. _Wake up_."

Allen did not respond and continued to shiver in his bed. "What's wrong with him?" Newt looked to Jeff.

The Medjack shrugged then picked up Allen's hand, making sure to not touch any of the burned bits. "Hands infected, like I said. Probably has blood poisoning by now." And he let Allen's arm drop.

Allenjolted to life immediately as the pain from her hand smacking into her own chest screamed across her body. Every nerve ending was on fire. Each atom that made up her body cried out in agony. She began to thrash around on the bed in a panic, hallucinating some unknown monster.

"Allen," a voice called, followed shortly be a few strong hands, "you're alright, but you need to stay down."

He pushed back on the hands. "Stay away from me!" She screamed, throwing an arm in the air but not connecting with anything.

"Allen!" The voice said again, "Calm down. You're alright!"

More boys pushed her down. "Get away from me!" She yelled again, kicking frantically, lost somewhere between reality and a nightmare.

"I told you he's losin' it! The infection is too bad." A second person spoke through the haze.

"Then shucking clean it!" Newt shot back, raising his voice too. Agitated that Jeff was being so dismissive.

The words could be heard but not fully understood by Grace. _Infection, clean, Newt._ A vague memory of landing on top of the British boy popped in to her mind, along with a burning piece of wood. Allen started to come back once the memory of picking up a torch to fight off a Griever came. The burning sensation radiated up from her right hand and through her arm. A warm trickle at first, growing into a fierce pain that stabbed the nerve endings like hot needles

"Make it stop." Allen pleaded, still not completely sure who was around her. "Greg, make it stop. make it stop. Please." She began to cry, blurring her vision even more.

An uncomfortable silence fell after Allen's sobs to his twin begging for mercy finished.

"He's sick. Al' ain't gonna last out in the Maze-," someone joined in on Jeff's campaign.

"Look at him, Newt. Kid's sweating like he's on the sun. We'd have to carry him out there-,"

"No." Newt cut the two boys off abruptly. "He's saved my life twice now. Allen's coming with us. And if you have a bloody problem with it then keep it to yourself." He got assertive. "Anyone got an issue with that?"

No one stepped forward.

"Good. So we fix'em up and then we leave. How do we do it?" Allen tuned in to Newt's voice and clawed back to reality.

"It's gonna hurt." It was Jeff, she could hear him clearly now. The world started to shift into focus.

"What are you gonna do? We don't have much time before we need to leave." Thomas came into the frame next. Allen wanted to roll over and cry from the pain and embarrassment. More and more boys were being acknowledged, but she couldn't move. Jeff and Newt were pinning her to the bed while someone was quickly creating make-shift straps with rope and belts to hold Allen down.

Jeff was directly above her, holding down her shoulders. "Allen actually showed us once," you could tell he was tentative about what had to be done. "Remember-…you remember when Gally got stung and got his infection? And Al… He had to cut it out of him?"

The atmosphere changed instantly.

"It won't take very long, if we do it fast. But it ain't gonna feel good. We gotta re-burn it after too."

Allen began to cry as the diagnosis and procedure were announced. She knew better than anyone that that was exactly what had to be done, but the idea of it actually happening to her was unbearable.

There was an unspoken agreement between the people in the room - Newt, Thomas, Jeff, Zart, Minho, Frypan and Teresa. "Let's do it then." Newt said, "But make it quick. We need to get out of here."

Jeff let go of Allen's shoulders and started to shout orders. "You guys will need to hold him down. Thomas get that knife, would you? Minho put this in the fire down stairs, and when I holler for you, run it back up real quick. Make sure it _stays_ in the fire. It has to be hot."

A shuffle broke out across the room as everyone took their positons. The weight of several bodies pressed against hers, to keep Allen from moving. She watched as Newt leaned in and pressed with all of his strength down on her shoulders and Jeff grabbed her arm to extend it out.

She knew it had to be done, but just the thought of how torturous this was going to be made Allen try and pull her arm back in. "Please," She begged through sobs. "Please don't." Jeff locked eyes with her but didn't have time to feel sympathy.

"Allen look at me." Said Newt from above.

Allen saw her hand for the first time in the light. It was definitely infected. Her fingers had curled in towards the center, tendons showing on the inside of her middle finger, pointer finger, and parts of her palm. There were no blisters because there was no skin left for blisters to form on. Muscle was charred and melted together. Everything was covered in a slick green film. Bits of yellow mucus bubbled out in the joints.

"Allen!" Newt demanded her attention.

She looked up, terror printed across her face.

"Focus on me. Good that?" He gave a forced smile. "Focus on me."

She tried her hardest, but once the sharp edge of Jeff's knife came in contact with her skin Allen couldn't feel anything but searing pain. Her jaw locked down and she couldn't bring herself to breath. A sound of a tortured, dying animal caught in a trap emitted from her throat. She tossed her head back, tensing every muscle in her body as Jeff scraped off all of the green film, mucus, and infected tissue. Everything was on fire.

"Minho!" Jeff hollered.

There was loud scurry from below as Minho made his way up stairs from the main room where there was a central fire to keep the homestead warm. He burst through the door holding a frying pan. The bottom of it glowing a bright orange from the iron retaining heat.

"Alright Allen," Jeff spoke to her directly this time. "This is going to hurt. Ready?"

Of course it was going to hurt, she knew better than he did how much this was going to hurt.

"One-,"

Allen wanted to beg them not to, but no air filled her lungs to speak. All she could do was watch and cry as the frying pan got closer.

"Two-,"

Thousands of memories flashed through her head of all the boys she's had to cauterize over the years to stop bleeding or infection. All of the pained faces as she had helped them, deeply engraved in to her mind.

"Three-," The bottom of the frying pan was pushed down onto her open palm.

She let out an earth shattering scream in distress. A smell of rotten, burning, meat seeped into the air. Everyone looked away, even Allen. No one could watch it. The smell was so bad on its own that it made Tereasa, running on nothing but pure energy, throw up. Jeff peeled off the pan and took several pieces of Allen's dead skin and muscle tissue with it.

Being the only one that could stomach it, Jeff moved instantly and grabbed clean gauze to wrap his hand in. He wrapped each finger individually first, to keep them from healing together, and then wrapped the whole hand up into a white ball of cotton.

Allen continued to cry in fright as she watched him finish the job. Her hand was destroyed.

Thomas began to unstrap her from the bed. Newt let go of her. Jeff backed away.

They left Allen to lay on the bed, nearly dead from the necessary torture. All she could was look out at her hand, still extended out over the floor where Jeff had been holding it, and cry. The group around her moved in to speak amongst each other. Hardly any of it made sense to her.

 _ **'It's far in to the Maze.' 'over the cliff.' 'best shot.' 'as soon as possible.' 'won't be easy.'**_

People and objects started to blur together again as Allen began to lose grip on this world for the second time. Hallucinations vibrated in the corners of the room, just out of focus. First it was Greg standing next to her. The little girl with a pink dress in the corner. Then George. Ben. Roy. And finally, her alter-ego, Allen. They all stared at Allen with hallowed out eyes and maggots squirming out from their mouths.

"You're not real…" she whimpered.

"Come'on Al', we're leavin. You're comin' with." Newt stepped through Greg, making the ghost vanish in a cloud of dust, and over to Allen. Minho followed him, brushing up against George, and helped pick Allen out of the bed.

She was physically nothing to them. Lighter than a sack of rice. As they lifted her up and swung an arm over each of their shoulders, so she was wedged between the two of them, the world spun around Allen. Colors transformed into one swirling mess in front of her. Nausea hitting her full force.

Minho and Newt started to move her forward and out of the homestead. Thomas, Teresa, and Jeff led the way as more boys joined them in the Glade. Allen's head swung from side to side as she went in and out of consciousness, the tips of her toes dragging on the green grass below.

They were moving fast, she knew that much. So many boys had joined in to their group – most of the Glade, she figured, by the shreds she was able to comprehend. Spears, knives, machetes all clinked together as they made their way to the Maze. She even caught glimpse of someone carrying a saw. Winston was there. So was Frypan and Zart. Marching in the parade being led by Thomas. Jeff were walking in front of her, occasionally throwing cynical looks her way.

"Where-?" Was the only word she could stomache.

"Thomas found a way out, Al', I told you. Didn't I?" Minho said somewhat proud, "You should've seen us out there-,"

She grunted, not in the mood for tramping around in the Maze or listening to Minho's rant right now. "Why?"

Newt answered this time, "no other options. Thomas says we solved it, so we're goin'."

The texture of dried cotton had coated the inside of Allen's mouth. She tried to wet her lips, but her tongue resembled sand paper. Nothing felt right or worked properly. Allen realized then how bad her infection must have been. There was an emptiness inside of her, having been burned out by the infection. She searched for her alter-ego in attempts to find comfort.

An empty room was left inside her head where She stood alone for the first time in her life.

They stopped moving and she hung limply between the two boys, only managing to stand with their support. Allen tried to focus on what was going on, instead of lingering on what was turning in to her slow and inevitable death.

The group of Gladers had stopped in front of an entrance in to the Maze. There was a ruckus going on up front where Thomas was. "'Ey, you shanks take him. I wanna see what's going on." Newt said, shifting Allen's arm off of his shoulder and on to someone else's. Minho copied his motion and both of them were gone within seconds.

Alby and Zart held her up now, both taking a stoic stance. "What's going on?" Allen asked, a surge of pain shooting through her abdomen which would have resulted in vomit if there was anything in her stomach.

The two boys exchanged looks over the top of her head, deciding if responding was necessary. "Gally is given the Greenie problems." Zart said, shifting Allen's weight to make it more comfortable for her.

Gally _would be_ causing problems, she thought. He would want to be the one to save everyone and couldn't allow Thomas leading them in to the Maze. Allen wondered how long the fight for dominance would last and if she would live long enough to see the end of it. She wanted to say something, talk, make amends for years of introversion but she could see it was too late.

The group started to move forward again. Alby and Zart moving awkwardly while trying to carry Allen along. She was just now getting used to the motion. Her brain finally able to keep up with the moving obstacles and noises without smashing them in to one big flowing site of colors and sounds. For a second she felt ok – just in time for Gally to reach out and grab her.

"Allen is staying here," Gally said as he ripped her away from her carriers.

She fell like a bag of potatoes to the ground, yelping as she landed on her bad hand. Thrown off guard by the sudden change, Alby and Zart stood motionless.

"What's wrong with you?" Gally came over and grabbed Grace by the elbow to hoist her up.

"Leave him, Gally!" Alby kicked in to action and stepped forward, ready to play tug of war with Allen. But Gally pointed his spear at Alby, shattering all trust between the two of them.

"Stay there." Gally said firmly. He pulled at Allen again, the jerk upwards made every muscle in her body solidify. Standing, but swaying like palm tree in a hurricane. "Gally-," she breathed out, trying to ignore the unbearable pain still burning through her. "We'll be left behind, come on-," Allen reached out for him to help support her.

He moved out of the way, making her take a small unstable step forward. "I'm not goin with them, Al'," Gally said. "We're stayin' right here."

"But they found it-," The ground shifted under her feet, making her mind think it was standing on a pool of green water.

Gally shook his head, "They didn't find nothin'. All they're gonna do is get themselves killed."

"I'm going," Allen wasn't entirely sure if she was looking at Gally or not, but she was trying.

"No you're not, you're stayin' here with me. You take one step in to that Maze and you'll die for sure."

Allen let her head fall back and she closed her eyes. He was probably right, but she was so done with Gally and being pushed around by him. "Shut up." Allen didn't want to wait for his blessing. She focused only on walking. Staring down at her feet, she thought solely of how to move them. The nerve endings all over Allen's body tingled with rage from being used. Messages from her brain to her limbs were being misfired all over the place, making the walk a stumbling, unbalanced, slow mess.

"I said you ain't goin," Gally took a few easy steps forward and put a hand on her, pushing her down to the grass and causing Grace's head to smack against the ground.

Zart and Alby lunged forward again, ready to fight. This time Gally's men came to stand between them and Gally. Unsure of what they were protecting, it felt like it was too late to switch sides so they had to fight for their new leader.

Something clicked back to life inside her but caused everything to start working in hyper-drive. Allen's heart pumped widely in her chest, hands shook, blood coursed through veins faster than she could breath, her skin felt things as if she had superpowers. Everything was enhanced. Smells, sounds, site. Her vision coming back full force made Allen freeze on the ground for a second as she looked at how defined a blade of grass was.

She waited for someone to tell her what to do – _Allen, Greg maybe-_ but no voices came. It was up to her to decide now, and she wanted to leave this place and never look back.

Bringing herself up to her hands and knees first, she then straightened one leg out at a time. Preying her sudden re-boot would last long enough to get to the exit. Once standing she turned to Gally with clear eyes and saw him for what felt like the first time. She didn't know the boy in front of her. There was no connection or friendship there. The old Gally was dead, he died a long time ago, and she didn't have time for this new boy. She owed him nothing. Felt nothing.

"I'm leaving. You can't stop me."

The clarity in her voice surprised everyone around them. It wasn't Allen's typical deep, throaty, one-worded voice. It was _her_ voice. Strong, steadfast, and mesmerizing. She stared Gally down for a moment, challenging him.

She had no weapon, and he knew it, so Gally took a step towards her.

"You really gonna hit me, Gally?" She spit at him. Opening her arms out wide as if welcoming him in. "You gonna hit a girl?" Allen mouthed to him, so only he could hear.

Gally stopped mid-stride, his mouth propped open from a loss of words.

She gave an unimpressed laugh, "that's what I thought." She shook her head, dismayed with where their friendship had ended. "Come with us," She said lightly too him. "We've wanted to get out since the beginning, and now here it is. Why are you so afraid?"

He had no response.

Zart inched forward, taking advantage of the surprise. "We need to go," he whispered to her.

There was no need for Zart to say it twice. Allen gave Gally one last glance and then turned her back on the Glade forever. Her line of direction was much straighter this time around. Running purely on adrenaline, Allen's body was functioning better than it ever had. There was no pain or burning sensation. It was all gone and replaced with superhuman sensitivity. Zart and Alby walked next to her, hesitant at first to let her walk alone, but after the three made their way back up to the front, they could tell that Allen was able to handle herself for the time being.

"You think you can hold on to something?" Alby asked.

Allen opened and closed the fingers on her good hand, "only if it's my axe."

"Newt has it," Zart nodded behind her where Newt stood. She turned to look at him and extended a hand, asking for her possessions.

Allen could tell that he was figuring it out too. Newt's brows were furrowed together not in anger, but in curiosity. His mouth hung slightly ajar as he added together all the variables that just came in to play. Allen's voice, his posture, his mannerisms. She wanted to say something, to give him the answer to a question he hadn't even fully created yet.

Newt looked down at her small hand and dainty fingers scarred from years of harsh labor and small burns. Even now, the disguise Allen had created for her was outsmarting the most observant of boys. He put a hand on the axe that was tucked safely away in his belt loop and pulled it out. An object like this was too heavy for a _girl_ to swing over and over again like Allen had. No female would allow herself to become so filthy, so calloused, so broken. _No_ , Newt thought _, there were other reasons why Allen's voice had changed so drastically just now. Maybe the infection, or the hit to the head._ He placed the axe in Allen's hand.

The weapon felt right. It was to her like it was a gun to a soldier or a dog to its owner. The axe balanced Allen out. Maybe it was the fever unknowingly raging across her body, but the axe seemed to fuse together with her skin and breathe with her.

She gave Newt a nod thanks, then one to Zart and Alby to signal that she was ready.

"If you start feelin' like you're gonna pass out, just yell. Can't have you fallin' behind."

Newt came up on her right, still trying to figure out exactly what Allen was, and Minho showed up on her left. Together the three followed Thomas into the Maze. There were times where she wasn't entirely sure if her feet were hitting the ground, or if there was any noise left in the world. She seemed to float alongside Newt and Minho, sometimes going temporarily deaf from a sharp ringing in her ears. But there was no pain and Allen was able to focus, so she kept going with the boys like she had for years.

A scream came from in front of them. A call much like they had heard from the night before. Tortured, evil, and shrill. Thomas motioned for all of them to press up against the wall while he, Minho, Newt, Teresa, and Alby came up with a plan. Allen found herself caught in the middle, listening but not quite mentally there. She was lost in her own mind, high off of dopamine and adrenaline.

"I'll run off," Alby said looking a little pale, "get the shucking thing out of the way for you shanks. Lead him out of here. Should give you enough time."

"That's a death wish." Minho responded firmly. "That ain't happenin',"

Allen caught on to Alby's tone and knew he had no desire to carry on with them, "the world you're goin' to aint right for me anymore," he said, "if I make it past the Griever I'll just head back to the Glade." Alby tried to comfort Minho, but the six of them knew it was a suicide mission.

Alby reached out and grabbed Minho's shoulder, bringing him in for a tight one-armed hug. Then Newt. He shook hands with Thomas, and finally laid eyes on Allen.

"Can you understand me, Al'?"

Allen didn't know it, but she had little to no color left anywhere on her skin. Internally, she felt like a warrior running on nothing but pure gold, but externally her body portrayed what was really happening. She trembled just slightly in the knees, bits of puss had started to leak out of her bandages, and her breathing was all messed up. Alby reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She was frighteningly hot. Her eyes tried to focus in on Alby, but he, and the others, watched as her pupils continuously dilated and re-dilated making it look like a tiny black pulsating orbs in the center of her eye.

Alby made a face of regret, "Make sure he gets out of here, Newt."

"Good that," he agreed quietly.

And with his final farewell, Alby ran into plain sight of the Griever. He hollered and beat his fists on his chest. The Griever screamed as soon as he noticed him and began to charge. Glader's watched from the safety of the other side as Alby sprinted in the other direction, a menacing monster in close pursuit.

Once Alby had led the Griever around a corner, Thomas hailed everyone to follow once more and led them down the corridor to the cliff. The infection started to penetrate Allen's high as she started to hallucinate again. Every few minutes she could see out of the corner of her eye the walls shift. Inhaling and exhaling as if they were living too. As the group of boys and Teresa approached the cliff, more Grievers arrived from behind and trapped the Glader's in.

Thomas worked feverishly to locate the hole he believed to be the exit. Teresa and Chuck knotted ropes and tied them off so they could swing down. And everyone else prepared to fight.

Allen stood in the back of the group, closest to the cliff and furthest from the nearing Grievers. She could feel the adrenaline wearing off but refused to be swallowed by the pain. Boys on the front line started to charge forward, screaming at the top of their lungs and swinging their weapons madly as Thomas, Teresa, and Chuck slipped over the cliff. Allen watched the Gladers get slaughtered. The next line of boys ran forward, brandishing spear and knives. They stood firmer than the first group and held off the Grievers just long enough for everyone else to man-up and join the fight.

Allen gripped the axe in her hand and stepped forward. There were only seven Grievers, but they were winning. She joined in on a group of boys trying to take one down and swung her axe blindly. Finding it difficult to understand if she was hitting the monster or hitting the ground below. Time slowed. Blood flew through the air and sprayed outwards, hitting everyone in the vicinity. The cries for help from boys and the screams of war from the Grieves molded into one sound.

But there was one yell in particular that Allen heard clearly through the chaos. Her head turned slowly, not confident in her balance if she moved too fast, and saw Minho battling a Griever alone. He was losing. With a spear in one hand and a knife in the other, the runner fought by himself. She moved with conviction towards Minho, ready to risk her life for his.

The faithful axe that had been by her side for years swung high into the air one last time and landed with a dull thud in the side of the Griever attacking Minho. The creature yelped and turned its attention towards Allen. It was a poorly thought out plan. With the axe still wedged in the monster's side, she stumbled back as it turned on her. She tripped on the body of a dead boy behind her, and fell on her butt. A bone crunched somewhere within her burnt hand as she tried to catch herself. Allen would have cried out in agony if she wasn't already preoccupied with watching the Griever pick up one sharp leg and stab it through her side.

The sharp, artificial, metal leg went in just above Allen's hip and retracted just after the creature let out a victorious scream. She put a hand on her wound and watched as her blood started to pour out in a stream of dark maroon. The Griever raised its legs once more and began to bring it down.

Allen closed her eyes and waited to be put out of her misery. There was peace in her heart from it finally being over. She lifted her chin up, giving the monster a clear shot of her chest.

But it never came.

Instead, the soft hands of a runner picked Allen up and carried her bridal style over to the edge of a cliff. "You're gonna make it, Al'," Minho said, trying to convince himself at the same time. "You're gonna make it." He said again.

She opened her eyes and was able to focus on the underside of Minho's chin where flecks of blood were beginning to dry. She could hear only her breathing and Minho's heart beating against his ribs. The Griever that was about to kill her stood frozen. A robot turned off. Between the raging infection and new puncture wound the size of her fist, Allen knew she was going to die. So she listened to Minho's heart, and let the world do with her what it wanted to.

Minho tied off a thick rope and looped it around her chest. He, Zart and Newt lowered her down through the invisible hole and followed behind shortly after. The cold clean floor felt like fire on her skin as she slumped down and waited for someone to come get her –betting on Death.

Minho came once more and hoisted her up, dragging her partially by his side. Allen tried to hold her own weight, but her feet slid across the smooth surface without much traction, leaving behind thin lines of blood where the tips of her shoes dragged. Her surroundings slipped out of focus.

"What is this place?" She heard voices start to pick up.

"Some sort of…lab or office, maybe," Newt's voice came through the fog.

"That's us, on the screen…"

"They were watchin' us,"

"What kind of sickos-,"

There was more talk, until a commotion broke out.

"Gally, don't!-."

Allen squinted in the direction that the call came from. She saw a body fall, and then another one shortly after. A group formed around the one, while the other laid by itself with no one mourning its death. Minho shifted Allen's weight and eyed her caringly. "Can you hear me, Allen?"

 _My name isn't Allen,_ she wanted to tell him before it was too late _._ All that came out though was a small groan.

The remaining group of Gladers began to move. Minho hauled her forward, past the two bodies that now lay dead on the ground. She tried hard to identify them, but it was no use. Her vision was gone entirely and even if she could decipher the colors, shadows, and shapes, Allen wasn't sure if her mind would be able to recognize anything through the blood loss or fever. The body could have been her best friend, and she would have never known.

Minho dragged her along in the middle of the group as Thomas, Teresa, and Newt tried to find a way out.

A blast came from the side and the deep voices of aged adults could be heard. There was shouting, and distant clicks of weapons being readied to fire.

"They're kids!" A man exclaimed. "All of them."

She felt Minho's grip tighten and pull her in a little closer. "It's going to be alright, Al'," he tried to comfort her.

 _My name -._ She pleaded back.

Mentally, Allen was hanging on to consciousness by threads. Physically, she was already cold.

"You're coming with us. It'll be safe there. Get'em all loaded up." Were the last words she heard before she couldn't take it anymore and slipped into, what she assumed, was death.

Allen woke, however, under the harsh light of a well lit room. Minho was still holding on to her, but now someone else had come to help him. _Zart, maybe,_ Allen judged by the thick fingers holding on to her side. She took a deep breath in.

"Told you he was alive," she heard Minho hiss to Zart.

There was another voice talking over him though. A new voice. An older voice. One that didn't belong to any Glader Allen had ever met. She tuned in, still unable to see straight or lift the weight of her head.

"You can shower here, and sleep in there." The man said. "We'll fix up your injured and then you can all eat and get some much needed rest. It seems to have been quite a day for all of you."

Allen listened for a reply from Thomas. But nothing came. No one asked any questions or felt the need to be suspicious; they were too tired. Too tired to care anymore, too injured to fight anymore, too emotionally dead to worry about what might happen next. Each Glader was in pieces, held together by a thin layer of encompassing skin.

The man began to talk again. "Boys will shower and sleep over in that room," a small shuffle broke out as everyone turned to look. "Girls will be over there."

"Why don't you all shower, ey?" A second voice came. "We'll get your food ready, and everyone can eat once you're all clean." It was a women's voice, Allen finally put it together. She tried harder now to pick up her head and look. She couldn't remember what an adult female looked like.

"Ladies first," the man said. And what started out as blurry image of him extending an arm to a door on the far side of the room, came in to focus at the end.

She saw Teresa give the man a wary look. Tereasa stepped forward after giving Thomas a light squeeze on his hand. She walked over to the door and pushed it open, the corners of a few beds from inside showing.

" _All_ of the ladies," the man said again, eyeing the group of boys.

The Gladers took only a second to swallow his words. _There were no other girls in the Glade - just Teresa._

"You got it wrong," Newt mumbled, picking up the job for whoever was now in command. "We don't have any other girls, just that one there."

This was Allen's opportunity to finally surrender herself and stop this façade. She prayed silently to herself that this would be the end. With what energy was left, Allen pulled her arms off of the shoulders of Minho and Zart and flattened her feet against the floor. Not standing straight, but able to hold herself up, she began to walk forward.

The man was giving Newt a slightly amused look, one that would have normally irritated the British boy if he wasn't so exhausted. "You sure?"

Speaking with genuine belief, Newt opened his mouth to confirm that there were no other girls in the group, "course I'm sure-," but before he could finish, Allen pushed passed him.

She walked pathetically forward and away from the group. Desperately clutching her side to stop the bleeding that was still gushing out. Allen was a ghost of who she was known to be in the Glade. Skin and bones. Bloodless skin. Bruised, burned, and mortally injured. She stopped in the front of the group and swayed, about to collapse at any moment.

Their savior put a light hand on her shoulder. He leaned in with a devilish smile and asked, "Now how'd you get in there?" as if she was a small child caught in her parent's closet.

Instead of answering, Allen peered over her shoulder and shamefully looked at the group of boys staring back at her. She dropped her gaze. There was no right way to explain this, so instead, Allen showed them.

Pulling off her stained shirt, Allen revealed a series of tightly wound fabrics and thin ropes holding back a female chest.

Unable to face the boys she had lied to for so long, Allen turned back to their saviors.

"Help me," she barely managed.

He winked at her then pulled away and motioned people forward. "Let's get her to the medical ward."

Adults swooped in like vultures over dead meat.

"Allen-?" Newt called softly.

She peered between the gaps of grownups at Newt, who stood facing her, and Minho, as he pushed his way to the front to get a better look. They were battered and worn just like she was. Splashes of blood covered their clothes and fresh cuts covered each boy.

Newt and Minho were the oldest friends she had, and now the only things she had left. Her heart hurt looking at them. With the fever burning and a dwindling blood supply, all she could do was begin to cry. A mixture of guilt for lying to them all these years, and relief for finally being able to put Allen to rest.

"Grace." She responded as tears rolled down her cheeks "My name is Grace."

* * *

 **B.T.**

Greg kicked the side of Allen's hammock just before dawn broke. He grunted, and rolled out of his bed in a daze, slamming into the earth below. Allen groaned, gave a few explicit swear words, then picked himself up.

"Wouldn't kill you to just shake me awake like a normal person, would it?"

His twin laughed, "I'm not a normal person, Al', I'm your brother. Now stop talkin' like that and eat some food so we can get goin'."

Allen looked around and noticed that no one else remained in their beds. There was, however, an overwhelming aroma in the air that made his mouth water, and he suspected that wherever that smell was coming from the rest of the Glader's would be.

Greg noticed Allen sniffing the air so he grabbed his brother by the base of the neck and started to lead him to the fire. "It's that Greenie. Been up cookin' for the last hour."

Allen smiled at the sentence. The Greenie had been nothing short of a treat for the group. He was a thick black boy with the nose of a professional chef (if he had the right ingredients) and had made himself right at home. It had only been a few days since his arrival, but the Newbie, who they were effectively starting to name Frypan, had been welcomed in to the group with open arms.

As the twins came close to the fire, Allen could see a small group of boys consumed in whatever was on their plates. The sizzle and crackle of bacon cooking in a pan sounded like a symphony to him. He didn't wait for Greg to guide him the rest of the way. Allen picked up speed and found a spot next to Gally, who had a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, several biscuits, and what looked like some sort of sauced beans.

Allen reached over and stole a piece of his bacon.

"'Ey!" Gally said pulling his plate away, "get your own, shuck-face."

He looked around eagerly to see where the plates might be, but the Greenie had already dished everything up for him. "You got your proteins, fats, and carbs." The boy said as he brought it over for Allen. "Alby was tellin' me what kind of work you guys do, so I made ya'll a good breakfast."

Allen looked up at the boy and smiled a thank you, the Greenie winked back. He dug in with his hands like everyone else, not wasting time on utensils.

"Don't eat too much," Alby warned them as he got up to get – _what Allen could only assume was_ – his third helping. "You don't wanna chuck it all up as soon as you start runnin'."

Allen demolished his plate of food with lightening speed. He got up and asked the Greenie for more, and the boy gladly served it. Sitting back down next to Gally, Allen realized that his friend was so focused on eating the food he had hardly said one word to him all morning.

He nudged Gally in the ribs, trying to get his attention.

Gally grunted, and swallowed the large mouthful of food he had been chewing. "Went to bed right after you. Slept like a baby." He said, eating more.

Allen was already half way through his plate of food by the time Gally was done with his sentence. He looked up at Gally, said a thanks for checking up on Newt, and then looked around the group to see if he was there too. But he wasn't. He was half way out in the field between where the group was and the opening of the Maze.

Allen nudged Gally again to get him to look up and nodded towards Newt.

He rolled his eyes, "Hell if I know, Al. Newt ain't my concern. He can take care of himself."

Not even bothering to respond, Allen got up and fetched a second plate. "Greenie," he croaked, and waved the empty plate at him. "Newt."

The boy gave Allen a funny look, not understanding his language yet. He looked on to the surrounding group for assistance.

"He wants you to give him some food for Newt," Minho said without even looking up.

"Oh, yeah. Ok." The Newbie said and ladled up some grub. "You always talk like that?"

Allen grunted a yes.

"Whys that?"

"Don't be askin' questions you don't want the answers to, Greenie." Greg butted in. "You'll get used to how Allen speaks just like all the other shanks here. Now if you got any more questions, you can ask them to me. You understand?"

The boy backed off pretty quickly and flicked an apologetic gaze to Allen. "All I'm askin' is if you could just say 'please,' or somethin'." He mumbled as he placed a few biscuits on the plate.

Allen cocked an eyebrow and held on to the Newbie's gaze. "Thanks." He grunted with a quirky smile. There was no need to make the Greenie hate him this early in to the game, so he extended the olive branch quickly.

The sturdy black boy nodded and gave a grateful smile before turning back to the fire where more bacon was cooking. Allen took the plate in both hands and walked away from the group, struggling to not pick at the pile of bacon for Newt.

Allen made sure to step on a few crunchy twigs as he got closer, to notify Newt of his presence. He stopped next to Newt and stared in the direction he was for a moment, trying to figure out what Newt could possibly be looking at for so long. Taking a seat next to him, Allen stuck the plate under his nose – offering it to him and hoping that the smell alone would make Newt hungry. Instead he took his gaze away from the Maze door and turned it too Allen.

Newt was depressed, he had been since the Newbie arrived, lost somewhere between the world he couldn't remember and this one. "She's never getting sent up, Allen." He said with no emotion.

Allen kept holding the plate of food up, giving Newt a bit longer to breathe in the beautiful smell of crisp bacon. "Who?" He croaked, eyes darting between Newt's and the food.

Newt brought a slow hand up and moved the plate out of his face. He took it from Allen and placed it gently on the ground where it would remain untouched. "My sister." Newt said looking back at the Maze. "I suspect they'll never let girls in here."

"Never know," Allen said optimistically.

Newt shook his head, set on what he already believed. "How long have you lot been in here now? Eight, nine months? And not one stupid girl."

Allen bit his lip, not sure how to comfort him. He bumped his shoulder in to Newt's bicep like he did with Gally. "Sister?" He asked.

A long silence dawned as Newt decided what to tell Allen. Without looking away from the Maze, he said, "It's just instinct. None of you would understand."

Allen took a bit of offense to that. Out of all the people in here, and what he assumed was to be the world, Allen and Greg were the only people who could understand that. He didn't know what else to ask, or how to be there for the grieving boy.

"Are you going to be ok, Newt?" She asked in a low voice.

His ears pricked up at the voice change and looked back to Allen again. If he hadn't been festering over a faceless, nameless, girl from his past, Newt would have noticed the real one in front of him.

The walls began to grind open, signaling the start of the day. Newt's attention snapped back to the Maze and he stood up before Allen could even stop him. "I'll be in the Maze. Tell Alby." He said, instead of answering his question. Newt stepped over the plate of food and in the direction of the opening doors.

Allen huffed at the rudeness and brushed himself off. He picked up his plate and headed back to where the rest of the boys were getting ready for that days run. Throwing the food into the fire, Allen gave the plate back to the Greenie and picked up his axe.

"Newt already leave?" Alby asked, clicking a pack across his chest.

He nodded, then pointed towards the door Newt went through.

"Greenie you're going to hold down the fort today. Like I said last night, we come back around sunset. Try to have somethin' ready for us if you can. We'll be starvin'. Just do me a favor and don't burn the place down." The new boy nodded, already cleaning up his mess from morning breakfast and Alby jogged off quickly.

"He say anything to you?" Minho asked next, interested if Newt had come around.

Allen shook his head, no.

Minho tightened his shoes and then asked Gally if he was ready to go. "Yeah," Gally said. Allen looked up to his best friend and gave him a faint smile. "Don't do anything dumb today, Al'." He teased. "I'll see you later."

Greg cringed at Gally's blatant affection for his twin, and even Minho threw him a judgmental look. "Dude." Minho said, embarrassed for all of them. "Stop."

Gally blushed as he was led away from Allen and Greg and into the maze.

"He's startin' to rub me the wrong way." Said Greg, with regards to Gally. "You ready?" He asked, already walking towards the nearest door.

Allen followed, and before long the twins were jogging side by side into the Maze. Together they weaved around corners, through patches of thick vine, and deeper in to the labrynth laid out for them. The twins were quicker together, feeding off one anothers energy and competitiveness to be faster or go further than the other.

It was a short lived run, however. The twins had barely made it twenty minutes in, hardly scratching the surface of the Maze, when Alby came hurdling around a corner and smashed in to them. "Shucking hell!" Greg yelled at him, "Watch it, would you?"

Alby had no time for arguing though. He was in complete disarray. Sweating and panting as if he had just run the Olympics, Alby clutched a side-stitch that had formed on the side of his abs and hissed in a deep breath. "Newt." He said through clenched teeth.

"Newt?" Greg pressed, not amused by being hit or talking about a kid he didn't particularly favor.

Alby tried to steady himself, and opened his mouth. "Up on the wall." Throwing an arm behind him in the direction he came, Alby went on in a short sentences. "Climbed it before I could find him. Talkin' crazy. He won't come down."

Allen was already in motion before Alby had even finished _"Up on the wall,"_ and began to jog

Forward in the direction Alby had motioned. "Allen!" Greg called at him, as soon as his twin started to move, and moved to catch up with him. Not waiting for Alby to finish either.

Allen leading the trio, the three boys rounded around several corners before coming to a quick stop and spotting Newt on the far end of a hall, standing with his toes over the edge of a very high wall. "Shit." He heard Greg mutter.

"Climbed the vines," said Alby, pointing to a sturdy cluster of dark green ivy a few feet below where Newt stood. "Tried to get him down, but he won't listen."

Quick on his toes, Greg grabbed Allen's arm and pulled him out of sight of Newt. "Alby, go over and distract him. Keep him up there, but don't let him focus on anything else goin' on. Allen and I will run around the back side and see if we can grab the slinthead."

Liking the plan, Alby nodded and then jogged forward so he could be within ear-shot of Newt. He craned his neck up, to get an obscure angle of Newt and the bottom of his toes, and yelled. "Come on down, Newt! What do you think you're doing up there?"

Allen wanted to wait and listen, but Newt's response never came. Instead the boy stood stock still on top of the 90 foot cement wall coated with cracks and vines, and looked down at the ground below him. Alby looking like a miniature doll.

Greg pulled on his arm again, and together the twins kicked in to motion. Allen followed blindly, taking sharp corners, moving quickly, not taking the time to memorize the landscape or direction in which they came. Greg's heals skirted to a stop and he looked up frantically at the walls around him. "Here." He said, moving for a cluster of vines that looked sturdy enough to hold them and began to climb.

Nervously, at first, but then with much more confidence, Allen watched as his brother moved up the side of a straight cliff. Willing to follow his brother in to the gates of Hell, Allen didn't hesitate, and began to scale up the wall too. It was a first for the twins, climbing, but like everything else – as long as they were doing it together, the other knew they could figure it out.

Taking a good chunk of time to reach the top, Greg flopped over the ledge on his belly first, then remained flat and spun around on his stomach to give Allen a hand up. No longer harboring the body of a thin and lean individual, Greg hoisted Allen's secretly feminine weight without any difficulties, and the twins came to their feet slowly 90 feet in the air. The tops of the walls were wide enough to feel secure, like walking down a hallways in your home, but narrow enough that you could still see the ground on either side.

"Over there," Greg nodded to where Newt stood, about 30 feet away, oblivious to their arrival. "Just be as quiet as possible, and hopefully he won't notice us until we get close enough to grab him?"

"And then what?" Allen whispered back.

"I don't shucking know, Al. Let's just get him first." Said Greg, frustrated he had to be up here in the first place.

With small bends in their knees, and walking low to the ground, Allen and Greg started to move one step at a time. The 30 foot distance seemed much longer than it actually was because of the height, and care they were putting in to not being noticed. At twenty feet away, they could start to make out what Alby was yelling at Newt – " _You jumping isn't going to solve anything!"-_ and watched as Newt's eyes scanned the pavement below. When the twins reached ten feet from Newt, the breath in their throat would get stuck with each exhale. They would breath slowly, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Allen wondered, for just a split second, what the chances were of Newt hearing his heart beating. At 8 feet away, Greg stopped and bent his knees a little further.

Allen watched as his brother threw himself forward and tackled Newt. Neither of the twins understood how precise the attack had to be without Greg or Newt rolling off one of the sides. Whatever the odds were though, Greg hit the boy with just the right amount of effort and speed to pull him away from the edge and pin him down.

Greg shook Newt's shoulders violently, making Newt's head hit the maze wall surface. "Are you insane!?" He bellowed, "You could have died!"

The statement seemed idiotic in the situation. _Of course he could have died_ , Allen thought, _that's exactly why he was up here._ Knowing this wasn't the place to argue over the treatment Greg was giving, Allen moved to the edge and waved down at Alby. Surprised to see Minho and Gally had joined him, he called down to the whole group. "We got him! We'll come down this side!" There was no excitement in the statement, because even though they had saved Newt's life, Allen knew this would create some serious up-set in the group.

Turning his attention to Newt, Allen took note of the boys expression. Still pinned under his twin, Newt was staring out over the edge he had just been standing on with a vacant expression. Part of him had jumped and was falling to the ground as the rest of him lay trapped up here. The other part, a much smaller part, seemed to be relieved. "Thank you," said Newt with a dead soul, a few stray tears sticking to his cheeks. It was like the chains that had been holding him down were thrown over the side, or maybe the realization that he did in fact want to live came to him as Greg had tackled him from behind.

"Shut up." Greg said, jumping off of him. "Allen grab some vines. We'll lower him down then you and me will go." He looked back down to Newt. "Idiot."

Doing what he was told, Allen lay flat on his stomach and reached down to collect vines clingy to the wall. He and Greg braided and knotted them on top of the cliff while Newt sat cross legged, in shock. He wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten up here in the first place. "Thank you," he said again, to Greg.

He scowled at Newt, then came over and helped him wrap a thick vine across his chest. "You know how you can thank me?" Greg asked rhetorically, "You can never do something this stupid again. And if Al or I ever need anything, your shucking face better be the first one we see." He finished, giving an extra tug on the straps around Newt to make them uncomfortably tight.

Newt didn't have a lot to say back to that and gave a nod before dropping his eyes.

"Walk over the edge, Allen and I will help you down from up here. Try to go slow." Greg gave Newt a push forward, not wanting to hear any complaint or flaws about his plan.

He nodded again and went to the ledge. Before taking his first step back and beginning his walk down Newt made eye contact with Allen, truly appreciating for the first time ever, how much Allen cared. "Thank you," He said again with such honesty it sent a shiver down Allen's spine.

" _Go."_ Greg said, stepping in front of Allen an on to the pile of vine rope they had just braided together.

Newt nodded and stepped over the ledge.

Neither twin spoke as they allowed the vine to slowly move through their hands.

The rope slipped just a bit, dropping Newt 10 feet in a second and snapping the vine tight. Greg's left foot was in the center of the coiled rope, where he had placed it when stepping in front of Allen to block Newt's view of him. A harmless decision. One made out of brotherly instinct. But as the vine looped itself around Greg's ankle and yanked him forward, he let go of the rope, putting too much weight on Allen and making Newt free-fall the remaining thirty feet to the ground.

There was a crack and a cry of pain from below, but Allen had no time for that.

Greg was teetering on the ledge. The sharp corner of the edge perfectly balanced in the center of his foot. He was waving his arms backwards, trying to push himself to fall back on his butt, but there was nothing there to steady him. It all happened in a second, right before the rope went taut, leaving no time for Allen to do anything but stare as her brother turned to look at her over his shoulder and give a sad smile before submitting to gravity and falling.


	13. Author Update

This story has been updated. Please follow _GRACE_ for the newest chapter.


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